Woman Series, HGAW
by Remarkable1
Summary: Hermione is not a witch to mess with. When her boyfriend dumps her via owl, what happens when an old friend and mentor comforts her and becomes something more?
1. Chapter 1 A Woman Scorned

This is an Hermione Granger / Arthur Weasley Fic, the First in a Fifteen Part Series Called my "Woman" Series. I mainly write SS/HG and LM/HG, but have really been excited with this one. Please R&R!

**A Woman Scorned**

Hermione sobbed her heart out into the faded armchair in the library at Grimmauld Place. That stupid arsehole git of a boyfriend Ron Weasley had just dumped her. Via owl. For Lavender Brown. Today was supposed to be iher/i day to celebrate their graduation and victory over the Dark Lord. Instead, it was one of tripe and misery thanks to that good for nothing redhead, who would rather settle for that skank Lavender than the Know-It-All.

Everyone else seemed to be having a good time at her party except for her. Not one soul seemed to be missing her. In a fit of anger she lifted her wand and blasted a picture of her, Ron and Harry off the mantle. It disintegrated with a satisfying icrack/i against the old timbers as a thousand slivers of glass twinkled obscenely in the firelight and down to cover the floor with their sharp dust. Smirking a bit to herself, Hermione waved her wand and the mess was gone along with the offending picture of her ex.

She stood up and walked to the other side of the room to open a cabinet there. Ah, yes! Good old Sirius had kept his best vintage in that cabinet and no one had bothered to touch it out of respect for his memory. Hermione snorted quietly to herself. She rather thought Sirius would have wanted his friends to have had a drink or two in his memory and not just let all the good spirits go to waste. With a blasé sweep of her hand, she lifted out the oldest bottle of Old Ogden's she could find along with two crystal tumblers and sauntered back to the chair.

Then she stared in dismay at the second tumbler. Why in Circe's name had she grabbed a second tumbler? Habit. That was it. She was used to grabbing drinks for two. With a small sob the tears began flowing again.

The sounds of the party became louder as the door to the library creaked open and Arthur Weasley poked his head in the door.

"Hermione? What are you doing in here?" When she didn't answer he came all the way in and shut the door soundly behind him. Seeing the young girl crying, the patriarch of the family came to kneel down by her and embrace her lightly.

"Hermione! What's the matter?"

Hermione simply sobbed into Arthur's shoulder for a good long while as he held her, confused but used to the wailing of women that needed to be held and not chastised. He hadn't lived with Molly Weasley for this many years without learning a thing or two about spirited women. After her tears had gone she simply clung to him for a time as if her life depended on it.

Slowly, she gratefully accepted the proffered handkerchief while drying her eyes and relating the story of his youngest son's breakup and betrayal of her trust via owl post, no less. Arthur's lips were set into a hard, thin line as his heart broke for the girl he considered a part of the family. His foolish son had no idea what he was giving up when he had dumped this bright, vivacious and gorgeous young witch. He could hardly believe that a child of his would be so stupid. Why, if he were twenty years younger himself….

i Oh bloody hell, what am I thinking? /i Arthur shook his head minutely to rid himself of the sudden image of Hermione and himself involved in a very compromising position. It was simply hard to avoid when he held her so close and her lips looked divine, her blouse pulled down just so and those lovely bosoms heaved against the fabric just so.

Oh, shite! He'd definitely had too much to drink already. Extricating himself gingerly from her arms, he rose and offered his arm so they could get back to the party.

Hermione shook her head and smiled sadly.

"I think I'll just stay here for a bit. I'd rather not be around a lot of other people."

He considered what she said before offering, "Do you want me to stay and keep you company?"

That made Hermione smile a bit more and she indicated the two tumblers. "If you don't mind. It's nice to just sit and talk without all the bother of other people wanting to see me be happy when all I want is to drink and be miserable."

Arthur could understand that sentiment. He had felt that way many times before in his life. Settling into the opposite chair, he and Hermione poured drinks and chatted with one another about times gone by and what each of them wished for the future. Arthur was an ear for her troubles and she was a sounding board for his work. It was refreshing to have such a bright young mind to bounce ideas off of. He thought they should do that more often.

Hermione rose and excused herself to the loo. Upon her return, she noticed Arthur had poured another round of drinks.

"For the road!" he grinned, obviously feeling the effects of the evening. Besides, isn't that what the Muggles always said?

Hermione giggled and accepted his toast. He stood and they clinked their glasses. In a move Hermione had once seen in a movie, she linked arms with Arthur and they each drained their glasses with their drink arms entwined at the elbow. Arthur almost spit out his drink at the absurd gesture that made finishing their last glass of alcohol nearly impossible to imbibe.

When the drinks were gone and Arthur had taken her glass and set it down on the table, he faced her once more and studied the look in her eyes. What he saw reflected there shocked and excited him in ways it never should have.

Desire darkened her pupils and she moved in to embrace him. Unsure as to what had suddenly changed he gave her a chaste hug, not daring to move lest he misunderstand the clear message he had seen there. It was impossible to say the least. He was married and had never thought of Hermione that way. But here she was in his arms, both hands clasped at the small of his back and her head pressed against his chest, eyes closed. She hummed lightly under her breath and squeezed a bit harder. He felt the soft press of her breasts against his stomach that sent an improper reaction to his groin.

Suppressing a groan, he wrapped his arms about her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.

"Mr. Weasley- Arthur," she began, sounding slurred and tentative all at once. "Have you ever wondered what would have happened if circumstances were different than what they are now?"

His mind went blank. Was that a loaded question or what? He answered the only way he knew how. "Different like how, Hermione?"

"Well, if you could travel back in time and do things over, would you do things differently with your life? Do you regret not doing anything you wish you would have?"

She pulled her head back a bit and looked up at him earnestly, the desire still evident there but a bit more subdued. He could handle this question although her arms were still wrapped around his waist. In the back of his mind he noticed the sounds of the party had died down and no one had bothered to check on them. It wasn't surprising with the amount of booze that had been flowing.

"There are a lot of things I wish I could go back and do over but hindsight is always twenty twenty. Does that make sense?"

She nodded and bit her lower lip, hesitant about her next question. "If there was one thing in the world you could do right now, what would it be?"

And there it was. This nineteen year old, nubile witch who until this very night had been his son's girlfriend, was fishing to make a move. On him. Arthur Weasley. His head spun and the ground seemed to be giving way a little as he staggered backwards. Hermione was pulled with him and he landed heavily on the sofa at the back of the room. The young witch landed in his lap and suddenly she was pressed against him in an intimate way.

Before he had a chance to respond his lips were filled with soft, pliant skin and the moisture from the tip of her tongue seeking; no, demanding entrance into his mouth. In the alcohol-induced haze fueled by his aching libido that Molly didn't see fit to satisfy more than once every couple of months these days he complied instantly, his tongue tangling dangerously for dominance against the one eagerly thrusting in and out of his mouth. Her hands were already unbuttoning his shirt with a deftness that belied the state of her well-lubed mind.

Arthur gasped against her mouth when his erection roared to life, pressing painfully against her belly. Every nerve ending in his body was alive as she pushed back his shirt to reveal his chest. Her fingers danced over his nipples and he groaned once more. The frustrated witch took his hands and pressed them against her breasts, the full mounds threatening to spill over the top of her blouse when he pushed against them firmly.

Seeing that he wasn't going to take the initiative, Hermione pulled back from plundering his mouth and took off her top and bra in one fell swoop. She had an ache that needed to be filled and the man under her was the one that was going to give her the satisfaction she craved so desperately, his marriage be damned. Hermione always thought of Molly as a whining old harpy anyway. Arthur deserved a good hard screw, in her honest opinion, and she was going to give it to him.

Arthur tried to speak but she shut him up with her mouth again while her fingers deftly pried apart his button and zipper on his slacks. Even under their combined weight she wiggled them down his hips, freeing his ample erection to the heat of her skin. He moaned and thrust his hips against her in mindless abandon. He kept telling himself this was a dream he'd soon wake up from and no harm would be done. Oh bloody hell, who was he kidding. He was on the couch in Black's library with Hermione Granger about to go down on his cock and it was the most fabulous thing he had felt in decades.

Leaving a bit of mystery, Hermione divested herself of only her knickers, leaving her skirt on for good measure. Arthur's eyes were glazed with amazement as she smirked at him and lowered herself to the tip of his erection. His trembling hands lay gently on either of her hips as she deftly took his erection and swiped it back and forth across the cleft of her soaking pussy to lube it up. His mouth opened and a sound not unlike "Ahhhhh!" erupted from it as she lowered herself onto his cock in one fell swoop.

Instinct took over and he crushed her to his chest with a searing kiss. Her knees straddled either side of him, her hands placed on his broad shoulders as she raised and lowered herself up and down in rapid succession. Hermione let the mewls and soft cries escape from her throat as she rode Arthur's hard cock with wild abandon. It felt so good to fuck a real man's cock and she felt the ache in her shooting fire up her belly and into her chest with each downward stroke that hit her g-spot.

Arthur alternated between stroking and twisting her nipples lightly and guiding her hips down harder and harder over his whiskey-soaked cock. He was insanely hard for her but the old fella was a bit under the influence, so it was taking a bit of effort to bring him off. He could feel Hermione's tight pussy begin to contract and flutter as her breaths came faster and faster. She was moaning in his ear and the sounds she was making drove him wild. Arthur began thrusting up inside of the hot, tight and wet young witch wrapped around his cock and felt his balls start to tighten in a most delicious way.

It was almost too much for him and he was now straining to make himself last. Hermione's moans turned into a high keening as she threw her head back and gyrated against him, smearing her creamy love juice all over him as she continued to ride him wildly. Feeling her pussy grip his tool like a hot glove sent him careening over the edge and he spilled himself inside of her with a guttural cry, his hands gripping her hips tightly as the firelight gleamed off of her sweaty tits.

As they came down from their fleeting high Hermione collapsed against him, sated and feeling fuzzy and warm. The little tryst was exactly what she had needed to assuage the mournful hurt from earlier in the evening, and was a petty but satisfying revenge on her part. She lazily traded slow, languid kisses with Arthur until she felt his limp cock slide out of her.

"You were magnificent," he whispered, tenderly cradling her head against his chest.

Hermione drew lazy circles with her index finger over the sparse hair on the center of his chest.

"Thank you Arthur, for everything," she intoned softly.

Then she rose and waved the pair of them clean. Neither said a word as they regained their clothing save to steal a furtive glance at one other. When they had all of their divestments gathered from hither, she slipped her hand into his larger one one last time and whispered into his ear.

"Until next time."

He shivered and stared after her as she left him standing alone amongst the deep shadows and dusty tomes of the Black library, wondering what the hell just happened.


	2. Chapter 2 A Woman Loved

Part 2 in my Hermione/Arthur 15 part "Woman" Series. Please read and review.

Hermione sat in a booth by herself, pushed as far back against the wall as she could manage. The party celebrating Arthur Weasley's 50th birthday party was winding down. A good portion of the guests had already gone home or were sloppily engaged in the remainder of the drinking contests or were passing out on the tables. Molly had long ago harrumphed and left, put out by the bawdy crowd that had taken over the party she had so painstakingly put together. Word had gotten out at the Ministry department where Arthur worked about the little soirée and ever since the gaggle of men and women had shown up from Arthur's department she had been in a right tizzy.

Hermione knocked back the last of her drink. She hadn't made many friends with her attitude as of late. In fact, people seemed to rather be avoiding her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Ron was flaunting his new relationship in her face every chance he got and she wasn't taking it very well. Sure, she could and should move on, but there was the one tiny detail that they were supposed to have been married. She felt as if he at least owed her an apology! No, an apology was not forthcoming, as long as the Weasley's bore redheaded children, which seemed to be for eternity.

Finally, the rat who called himself part of the Golden Trio left with his slag on his arm. Hermione got up to wish Arthur a Happy Birthday and then take her leave. She didn't have anything to go home to but it didn't stop her from heading there anyway. The entire Weasley family acted like she was the one in the wrong and had driven Ron into Lavender's arms. Well, everyone except Arthur and Ginny. The only reason she showed up for this tripe of a party was a result of a personal invitation from the birthday boy himself.

Smiling to herself, Hermione fondly recalled her last encounter with the Weasley patriarch. He had given her a gentle hug, brushed the tears from her face and kissed her forehead while she cried once again over his prick of a son. It had clearly pained him to see her in such a state whenever she came to the Burrow. Harry and Ginny were the only reasons she really came by there for supper anymore and even that invitation was wearing thin in her eyes.

Arthur had just finished his conversation with the last of his mates and stood up from his stool, giving a broad stretch. He gave a wide grin when he saw her approach.

"Hello Hermione! I've barely seen you all evening! Where have you been?"

Hermione smiled back. "Oh, you know. Here and there, talking to different people."

Arthur's smile vanished as he saw the sad look in her eyes. Clearly she was still upset about Ron and Lavender.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm afraid there isn't. Time will be the only thing that can heal my heart."

Arthur simply nodded in reply and took her hand. With a bit of surprise the young woman allowed herself to be pulled away from the pub counter and out the door. She walked quietly with the inebriated wizard, who was actually quite in command of himself despite how many drinks he had pounded.

"Where are we going?" she asked casually. There really wasn't any reason for them to be walking alone through Hogsmeade this time of night together but Arthur probably had a destination in mind. He simply looked back at her with that infectious smile of his and continued on, leading her to gods knew where.

The minutes passed and gravel crunched under their boots, the only sound to mark the passage of the witch and wizard strolling hand in hand beyond the edges of the small village. Not more than a few hundred feet beyond the last lighted street the road became dark as pitch. Arthur smoothly lit his wand and continued down the road.

They must have walked a good mile from town before he stopped and crouched down next to the side of the road.

"What are you looking for?" the curious witch inquired. He hushed her sharply, one finger raised to his lips in warning.

Tracing his fingers along an unknown line to the side of the road, Arthur made a serious of movements reminiscent of runes. A soft glow appeared at the tree line and he stood sharply, pulling Hermione along behind him.

Hermione desperately wanted to ask more questions as a thousand and one thoughts bombarded her brain but she wisely kept silent. In the next moment it felt as if she had stepped through a portal and time was suspended. The moment she stepped into the trees with Arthur her movements slowed down. It felt like she was moving through water, yet the air was still fine to breathe.

Arthur had let the light from the tip of his wand go dark. It didn't appear they needed it. From only a few feet from the road and into the trees there was a clearing with a pond at its center. Hermione turned to look back at the road and discovered only a thick copse of trees behind her. It was impossible! Yet she had learned that in the world of magic anything was possible. They obviously had been transported to some unknown place. Taking in a deep breath, she followed Arthur to the edge of the clearing and copied his movements, lying on her stomach in the soft grass and leaves.

Arthur scooted close to her side and wrapped one arm around her back. He gently pointed her head towards the far side of the pond. Hermione gasped when she saw a pair of unicorns drinking serenely from the eerie glass-like surface of the water. It reflected the stars in the night sky magnificently and thus gave the clearing a soft, gorgeous glow as the moon seemed to bless them with its translucent beauty.

Just as Hermione gasped both unicorns swiftly raised their heads and whuffed into the night air. The stallion pawed the ground and swung his regal head from side to side in consternation. Long minutes ticked by with Hermione and Arthur still as the stones at the water's edge until the unicorns relaxed once more and slowly moved around to their side of the clearing. Their breaths came in silent shallow pants as the unicorns grazed on the silvery-green grass, lichen and clover at the tree line. At one point they came so close to where the pair lay that Hermione could have reached out and touched the muzzle of the mare.

For more than an hour they watched the almost mystical creatures in awe do what animals do; graze, drink, frolic and roll around before departing down a path known only to the unicorns and out of sight.

Arthur laughed suddenly and clapped his hands together, rolling onto his back like a delighted child. "Wasn't that marvelous? I bet you never saw that in the Muggle world!"

Hermione didn't know what to say. It was one of the most moving experiences of her entire life and tears of happiness, joy and wonder clearly showed in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around the wizard's neck and thanked him profusely.

"Hey now, what's this? I just wanted to share a bit of my childhood with you. You looked like you needed a distraction and a bit of a pick me up. I've been coming here for years when life gets me really down. The unicorns are rarely here but I love the serenity of the lake. It seems to calm me down when nothing else can and I always leave feeling rejuvenated."

Hermione quit crying and lay her head on his shoulder. "Thank you Arthur. I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life and only now just realized what I'd been missing. How can I ever repay you?"

Arthur was quiet then, not daring to answer her question. He thought back to the night she had surprised him, when his idiot son had broken up with her and how she had made passionate love to him in the library of Grimmauld place. He had never forgotten that encounter and the memory was the subject of many solo encounters with himself and little Arthur in his trousers when he was spurned by his own wife, which was all the time now.

Hermione sensed his reluctance to answer her question and raised her head to look at him. "Did I say something?"

He shook his head quickly. "It's not you, it's me. Just had a bit too much to drink. Come now, we'd best be getting on before we're missed."

Arthur tried to sit up but Hermione kept him pinned down momentarily. She studied him curiously. "Tell me what's on your mind. You didn't answer my question."

Even in the dim light she could see his cheeks flush a deep crimson. The light bulb went off in her head and she instantly knew how he thought she could repay him but he was too much of a gentleman to say it.

"Why didn't you just ask? I'll never turn you away Arthur."

He started to babble and deny her. "I-I what? I didn't say anything!"

He was hushed by her finger on his lips. "You don't have to say anything. I can read you like a book from the Black library."

She smirked as the double entendre hit him between the eyes like a bludger and an unintentional moan escaped his throat.

"Hermione I-"

"Shhhhh….." was all Arthur heard before those soft lips descended on his own and forced him to relinquish all control once more to the supple young woman that now straddled his waist.

It didn't take him long to respond to her physical presence in the way wizards respond to witches in such intimate situations. Hermione smiled against his mouth when his tongue pressed against her for entry, which she granted with great enthusiasm.

Her hot core pressed against his raging erection. As she slid herself up and down over his length, something akin to a growl escaped from around his mouth.

"Hermione! I need you. I need you now, please!"

Hermione wondered if it was the drink responding to the situation or true, raw desire for her. She pulled back from their heated embrace and searched his face for a sign, any sign that it was her he wanted and not just some random fuck. She wanted to feel wanted, needed and beautiful. Desire was something she was accustomed to. Real attraction and fulfillment was something that was sorely lacking in her life.

Arthur caught on that there was something more to this than just fiery passion. He rose up on his elbows, wincing at a sharp rock that caught at his skin. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she breathed. "You're doing everything right. It's just- tell me. I need to know."

"What do you need to know, Hermione? You know I'll tell you anything that's within my power to do so."

Hermione ran her fingertips from his temple, through his stubble and down to the tip of his jawbone, holding him there between her thumb, middle and forefingers.

"Is it me? Is there something wrong with me, that Ron just couldn't wait to throw me away? Is that what I am? Some kind of object to be used and cast aside when other people are done with me? Because if that is the truth, I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you. I don't want to just be the woman that knows it all, can solve the world's problems and the one everyone turns to in a crisis. I want someone to look at me like the woman I feel that I am inside; sensual and whole, divine and giving, loving and loved. Please tell me. What am I?"

Arthur's heart broke when she finished speaking. She was absolutely breathtaking. Each time he saw Hermione since their first intimate encounter, he fell a little bit more in love with her. He couldn't help it. There was something about the way she carried herself, something that everyone around her seemed to overlook. The only person he knew of that even understood a fraction of the woman behind the mask that was Hermione was the reclusive potions master, Severus Snape. He had only ever gained that understanding from a few brief, terse conversations over a Firewhisky and muttered comments about the dunderheaded stupidity of others that would never appreciate her true worth.

Only three words came to mind when he answered her, and it seemed to be all she needed to hear.

"You are everything."

Her head came crashing back down over his lips, her hair cascading in rivers of soft silk around his face and ears. Their kisses became frantic, stilted almost. Arthur groped along the ground for his wand and vanished their clothing.

With one swift movement he had her on her back, urgently pressing her knees up to her shoulders as he wet the tip of his straining erection against her entrance. The soft sound of her whimper drove him crazy and he thrust into her sharply.

Hermione cried out at the fullness inside of her. He was simply incredible, the way his cock fit perfectly inside of her. The rest of the world ceased to exist, the way it had the first time they had made love, as he swiftly established a rapid pace that had their hearts threatening to pound through their chests.

"Hermione, you're so tight. Oh, goddess I've needed you- wanted you for so long. Oh Circe yes you beautiful witch come for me sweet Hermione!"

And just like that he reached between them and rubbed his calloused thumb over her clit, sending just enough friction over the tender bud to force her careening into an intense climax. The hot glove of her vagina fisted in a heavenly ripple over his cock, coating it with her juices and cream of witch as he continued to slide in and out of her with an ardor he'd never dreamed of having with another person ever again in his lifetime.

When her orgasm subsided, he pulled out of her and groaned at the loss of sensation. Sensing the urgency, Hermione did as he bid and turned around onto her hands and knees, her head resting against her arms, breathing in the rich smell of earth and wildflowers.

Arthur grabbed both of her hips and lined up his cock with her puckered arsehole. He teased her there for a moment and heard her gasp in shock. "Arthur?" came the tense inquiry.

"It's okay love, I'm only teasing." Feeling her relax once more, he pushed his length into her in this new position. It was a whole new experience taking her from behind. The angle seemed to intensify the tightness with which he was being stroked and it made him mad with the urge to come deeply inside of her hot, wet pussy.

"Oh Gods Hermione, I- I'm going to-"

"I want you to. Come inside of me Arthur. Fuck me, take me, oh god yes fuck me good!"

He obliged her passionate request, slamming into her in such a way as he hadn't for many years. Too many years of missionary, vanilla sex had him working muscles that hadn't seen the light of day since his early twenties. Immediately a painful cramp caught ahold in each of his legs which he ignored vehemently in the throes of desire. His cock was about to burst, the pre-come leaking profusely from the tip and mixing with the juices running down his pelvis and Hermione's thighs.

The smell of her arousal had him dancing with the stars in the night sky. They were up there, looking down on the copulating witch and wizard and blessing the pair with their soft light. He was desperate for her to come again so he hunched low over her back and rutted with her like a wild animal. Both of his hands fondled her tits while his ball sack slapped against her fine arse and swollen pussy lips.

He brought one hand up to her shoulder for leverage and slid the other one into her slit, playing urgently with her clit while gritting his teeth to hold himself off for a minute longer. Hermione shuddered and began to keen underneath him. Her rising voice was shaking as she suddenly arched her back and screamed his name into the night. "A-a-ar-arthhuurrrrr!" The syllables were punctuated by the last staccato round of hips and cock meeting pussy and arse.

At long last he stiffened above her and gave one good last hard shove before blasting multiple jets of thick come inside of the brilliant, loving and loved witch beneath him. The orgasm seemed never to end as the heights of ecstasy blew his mind into outer space. Sex had never felt this good.

Finally, the last of his come was released from inside of him and he collapsed against Hermione's sweat-soaked back, panting hard. How could he ever go back home to Molly when he had access to this gorgeous and willing young thing? She was all he had ever wanted in a witch and wished desperately that his reality was different. Despite all of his misgivings, he was prepared to accept what he was given and not let her ever know his true feelings for her. It was extremely inappropriate; what they had been doing anyway. There was no sense inviting heartache and more trouble into her young life.

Arthur Scourgified them and they helped one another dress. This time they freely shared kisses and embraces before heading out of the clearing, out of the trees and back onto the road to Hogsmeade.

"Happy Birthday Arthur."

"It's happy because I got to celebrate it with you, love."

With a smile and whispers of promises to meet another time, the pair Disapparated their separate ways.

The unicorns looked on from the edge of the clearing and whinnied their triumph and love after them. It had begun.


	3. Chapter 3 A Woman of Fantasy

Arthur was shattered awake by a shrill voice and an ice cold cup of water thrown at his nether regions.

"Get up you lazy git! Must I do everything on my own around this dump?" Molly Weasley sashayed out of the room and harrumphed loudly as she slammed the door shut in her wake.

With a shout at the sudden impact of the cold water on his nether regions, and a shake of the head toward the closed door, Arthur rose from his lonely bed and headed for the loo. Respect was non-existent in his house, and while Molly had always been queen of the castle, there had been a modicum of love and respect that had kept their bond tight and steadfast through the years. The past couple of years had slowly eroded their once close-knit family. The death of their son in the final battle had seen Molly come unhinged. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion she was carrying on an affair of her own, and it had saddened him greatly. Now he was guilty of the same thing and was no better than his own suspicions.

The hot water felt like heaven on his body as he lathered his lightly freckled and mildly scarred chest and forearms. Tilting his head back into the spray, Arthur let his thoughts of the previous night drift to the forefront of his mind. The Muggle-born witch he had held in his arms had sparked his imagination and flared his desire to a previously unfilled inferno of lust, and something more he dared not contemplate, that had been missing in his marriage to Molly. It was more than butterflies and initial lust from a new and exciting liaison. Defining it would mean confronting what was slowly becoming more as his daily thoughts included lots of Hermione and less of his children's mother.

A soapy hand gripped his burgeoning erection, beginning to slowly stroke the shaft in tandem with his fantasy. In his minds' eye the sweet young witch joined him in the shower, leaning in to take over stroking his cock. His hand became hers as he guided her in pleasuring himself the way he enjoyed to be stroked. His breath hitched, imagining her rosebud lips leaning in to capture his own in a searing kiss that touched his very soul.

Arthur's breath quickened despite his horrid hangover and his other hand reached to his scrotum, kneading the sac gently while Hermione' s faux hand tweaked and rubbed his dick so deliciously.

That hot, snaking tongue of hers slipped into his mouth and tangled for dominance in a heated battle between the sexes, oral succulence causing his shaft to twitch and harden even more.

Those gorgeous tits were rubbing against his chest even as the muscles in his back were loosening beneath the sharp, heated spray from the shower head. His soapy chest lathered her nipples and breasts in slippery, fragrant bubbles that allowed for a smooth exchange of mutual skin-to-skin pleasure between them.

"Yes my love, just like that! Oh gods Hermione….."

Arthurs' knees trembled with a sudden weakness when his fantasy quickened her pace on the upstroke, tightening her grip ijust so/i at the head of his cock before encompassing his length over and over again in a way that made his balls tighten with anticipation.

Gasping for breath, the wanton witch in his head knelt between his legs and sucked him into her oral honey hole. With a fantastic shout he came harder than ever, head thrown back and his voice making an intense racket above the sound of water hitting the floor. Several jets of semen were shot from his love gun, hitting and spilling down Hermione's lovely face, dripping onto her breasts as she rubbed his seed into her skin and licked some from her lips.

When the last of his supply had emptied onto the cold tile, he at last opened his eyes and blew out an exhausted sigh. Just the thought of entertaining Hermione physically was enough to have him coming like a young man again. He felt randy as hell, and after the previous nights' excursion, he knew he wouldn't be able to get her out of his system. Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to. Some selfish part of him wanted the young witch for himself even though he knew that was impossible. They simply had found solace in one another for an occasional bout of lovemaking and connection.

If only…..

Well, he had speculated on what if's long enough. It was time to face the harpy and get ready for work.

Putting on a cheerful face despite the shrieking from the kitchen for him to hurry up, Arthur Weasley did what he always did; he got ready for work and set out to support his family like the good, dependable and fatherly wizard that he was.

No one could tell by the look on his face that he would much rather be squirreled away with a certain young witch who was slowly taking over his heart.


	4. Chapter 4 A Woman of Reality

Hermione started her new job at the Ministry on a crisp October morning. She breathed in the air and sighed before using the Floo to catch the morning rush to her job. As a caretaker for Magical Creatures, she wasn't, per say, actually going to work iat/i the Ministry, but from time to time she would need to go in for briefings, meetings, training and instruction from her new boss. Her position had been newly created and she had accepted on a whim. Anything beat her old job of shelving books for Madam Pince. After being accepted as the librarian's apprentice with the intent of taking over the position, the older witch had made it quite clear she had no love for the younger witch that had made her life an annoying one while Hermione was a student there.

So with nasty little hexes spread throughout the Hogwarts library that would only respond to Madam Pince's magical signature, Hermione happily strode through the large, ornate silver office doors to find out who her boss was and get her first assignment.

Arthur Weasley looked up from his desk and let his jaw drop for a moment before audibly clicking it shut.

"Uh, dub duh, uh, I mean, hello Hermione! What can I do for you today?"

Refusing to let her own consternation show, Hermione promptly strode forward and thrust her magical portfolio, job description, hiring contract with the Minster's signature and pay agreement onto his desk and held out her hand.

Arthur belatedly rose and took her hand in his big ones, shaking it profusely and just a tad too long for professional comfort.

"Why are you here exactly?" he asked, flustered and still shaking her hand.

Hermione tactfully pulled back her own hand and clutched it to her chest as if burned. "I'm your new employee, I guess," she finished lamely.

"Oh. Oh! OH! You're the new… uh, magical creatures caretaker, is it? Yes. Well then."

Arthur hemmed and hawed about his desk, clearing his throat and busily straightening out already straight papers, dusting imaginary motes off various baubles that adorned the edges. A picture of his wife was prominently displayed and in a very awkward gesture he opened a drawer and tactlessly shoved in inside, slamming the drawer shut before smiling at Hermione.

Hermione threw up her hands and sat down in one of the two large wingback chairs opposite his desk. It was a very pretentious office, very fitting for the current Minister who liked to do things on a grand scale including dolling up every office and surface in the place. It had cost a fortune in taxpayer wizarding money for all the upgrades, and Hermione had a fairly good idea who was behind much of the financial support judging by the Pureblood statues and frescoes lining the corridors.

Arthur continued smiling at her like an idiot, a small tic at the corner of his eye the only thing giving away the fact that he really felt like a small, furry animal about to be eaten alive.

"Arthur, what are we doing?" she asked bluntly. She hated these stupid games they played in public. It wasn't as if she were fucking him in front of the entire world, was it? No. They had been intimate exactly twice. So what was the big deal? Well, for one, he was married, and it obviously made him uncomfortable to be around her. iJust another failed shag,/i she miserably reminded herself. He probably couldn't wait to send her out on assignment to be rid of her.

After another long, thick silence Hermione huffed and stood. "Well, if you have my assignment Mr. Weasley I'll just be going."

Arthur put his head in his hands and pulled them down his face slowly. He rose and pulled his wand from his suit pocket and flung it at the door, closing it with a clatter and warding it so he would be aware if anyone approached, but not keeping them from entering the room.

"Hermione, look-"

"No!" she retorted defensively. "I get it. You- you're ashamed to be seen with me. What we did- what we had- no, what I ithought/i we had between us. Oh bloody hell; I'm saying this all wrong." She turned with her back to him to gaze out the window at the cerulean blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

Arthur was stunned but quickly recovered. iIs that what she thinks? Oh Circe, no wonder this is so bloody awkward!/i

"It's not like that at all! You're everything! I mean, I have felt more alive when I've been with you than I have for years, Hermione! Great Morgana, I could never be ashamed of you my dear. I lo—oh shite someone's coming."

The wards flickered a light green and faded out. Hermione panicked and did something so uncharacteristic neither she nor Arthur could comprehend the purpose of it until later, accepting it was one of those things that were simply meant to be. She dove under Arthur's ginormous desk to hide.

With a flourish the Minister for Magic Jacob Malfoy preened into the office. His long blonde hair was reticent of the Malfoy line, but his severely narrow features were decidedly not. The bastard of Lucius Malfoy had flourished in the limelight his self-proclamation and subsequent blood test that had shocked wizarding Britain had produced. Surely such things were common occurrences- bastards of purebloods, but no one had the arrogance to come forward and claim such a thing. Jacob had even had his name officially changed to Malfoy, which couldn't be legally contested so long as he signed a no claim deed against the Malfoy Estate and heir-ship. Which he did gladly, simply happy to have taken on the name.

Well, times had surely changed and the new darling on the social scene had no Death Eater past to hold him back. For all the potential promises of riches, the young man had become the youngest Minister in a century, a real rags to riches story considering he was owed nothing by the real Malfoy's under law, and had since acquired multiple business ventures with pure Slytherin guile and quite a few naïve or gullible groupies.

Pretentious robes and all, Jacob practically floated to one of the chairs and seated himself with all the pomp and circumstance of the wanna-be elite.

Arthur bowed stiffly to the much younger man. It should have been his seat, but the hateful young peacock had usurped it from under him with pretentious posturing and political meandering that had stolen the foolish hearts of the general populace. Lies laced with acid had been swallowed whole under the guise of shite-smelling roses. No one wanted to hear Arthur Weasley and the miserable truth. They were sick of the war and everything to do with it. No, what they had wanted was a fresh face, and with Jacob, it was the best of both worlds. The young man had won in a landslide, firmly capping Arthur's chances at the top seat for at least two more years. Arthur doubted he would have a chance at winning until it was too late and Jacob had run the country dry. At that point, he wouldn't want the job anyway, cleaning up the muck the git was leaving in his wake.

"Ah, Minister, what pleasant circumstance brings you to my fine office?"

Jacob straightened the already straight folds of his robes, the lines crisp and clean. "Ah, yes, Mr. Weasley. I've come to inform you that there will be an official inspection of your department. It seems the Auror department and the department for Magical Records are teaming up to root out corruption and misappropriation of Ministry facilities. It is expected the inspections will provide a twenty percent reduction in budgetary costs by cutting out unnecessary and nefarious expenses."

"Ah yes. Word had reached the staff room of the inspections beginning yesterday."

"Very good. Please, Arthur. Do sit down. You drive me insane when you stand and pace like a commoner."

Arthur frowned and sat, unnerved by the unstable man in front of him and nervous at the prospect of having a past paramour under his desk. It made for a tight-rope like experience that he was all too eager to have said and done. Jacob began droning on about various drivel that inevitably drove Arthur to tears. Every week the git wandered from office to office just to hear himself speak. Jacob liked to call it, "Keeping in touch with the common man," and made a habit of being the most detested Minister in history, save a few select ones in recent history under Voldemort and Grindelwald.

Shuffling his feet uncomfortably, Arthur was beginning to wonder how Hermione was able to breathe properly under the desk when he felt pressure along his knee caps. Confused, he clasped them more tightly together but gasped when a slight burn touched the inside of either knee.

"Are you quite alright?" asked the rambling Minister, frowning at the interruption.

"Yes, ah, fine. Do continue!" Arthur smiled tightly, the best plastic face he had ever perfected frozen in place.

Nodding slightly, Jacob continued his incessant babbling.

Arthur's knees were pried apart and a colored patch of honey-brown plaited hair was visible between them. Small fingers quickly released the placket of his trousers and had his cock pried from the Y-fronts in record time. He stiffened, the plastic smile doing its job worthy of a Muggle Oscar performance.

Hermione grinned lasciviously up at the poor man as she took his cock into her mouth and licked the slit of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

Arthur's hands gripped the edge of his desk, the force of his grip turning his knuckles white as the sweat began pouring down the back of his neck, soaking and staining the white lawn undershirt layer of clothing. He nodded at random intervals, hoping and praying Jacob wasn't noticing anything amiss. As it was, the other wizard only glanced at him on occasion while he ambled on monotonously and picked at his ragged nails no real Malfoy would have ever been seen in public with.

Now raging hard, the naughty witch had the entire thing in her mouth and down her throat. Fighting the urge to groan, the red-haired man struggled with the urge to come hard into her mouth and hold it back so he didn't give both of them away. She was so fucking wet and tight in that puckered mouth, those fuck-me lips smearing lipstick up and down his cock like a two-bit hooker.

Oh shite he was going to come and there was nothing save an iAvada/i that was going to stop him, and even that was suspect.

Making a face like he was having a stroke, Arthur's balls tightened viciously in his damn Muggle tighty-whities and he felt her suction strengthen in force, milking him dry right in front of the Minster for Magic.

And that bastard Jacob chose that exact second to look up when Arthur jerked his hips forward, slamming the top of Hermione's head against the underside of his desk as he grunted his completion.

A suspicious frown formed on the man's face. Something was definitely amiss. "Are you sure you're quite alright, old chap?" he inquired once more, studying his lackey for signs of further distress. If Arthur was ill he wanted to be nowhere in the vicinity. It wasn't good for his complexion.

Arthur was sweating freely now and he took a linen handkerchief from his breast pocket to mop his face somewhat dry. He stammered an apology and excuse. "Ah, oh ah, so sorry Minister Malfoy. You know, come to think of it, I've been working rather hard lately and I could do with a rest. Seems I might be coming down with something, so I think I'll just be off and back in the morning."

Instantly covering his nose with the sleeve of his robe, Jacob Malfoy stood and backed slowly away from the desk. Darting his eyes about the room, the man practically stumbled in his wake to get away from Arthur and the supposed contagion.

"Mr. Weasley, why don't you take the rest of the week off. After all, the Ministry wants its employees to be in top form. Yes, well turrah and here's to a speedy recovery!"

Arthur tried to assure the man that he was feeling better already but Jacob had turned on heel and ran from the room.

Frowning in consternation, Arthur helped Hermione up from her position from under his desk as he finished tucking away his jolly roger.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to do Hermione," he scolded, but his heart wasn't in it. Once again she had given him one of the most incredible blowjobs of his entire life. The thrill of discovery had added to the intensity and even he had to admit it was a bit of a turn-on.

"You liked it," she smirked, wincing at the bump on her head before cleaning the last bit of semen from her chin where it had dribbled down.

Arthur felt his cock twitch at the sight. She was wanton and lovely, her hair mussed and robes wrinkled for that freshly-fucked look. Gods knew, if anyone walked in at that exact moment they'd know exactly what she'd been up to.

The adoration in the man's eyes was all the confirmation Hermione needed to bolster her flagging spirits. He still wanted her, and the ball was in his court. If she played her cards right, he'd play right into her hands, and waiting arms. And then she'd never let him go.


	5. Chapter 5 A Woman of Passion

A Woman of Passion Part 5 in the "Woman" Series

Arthur left the Ministry on a Friday evening whistling. He had to admit; post-war life was agreeing with him. He had only two of his children left living at home, soon to be one and only if Ginny didn't accept a proposal from Harry soon, and his wife was busy with some neighbor's new babies, thus keeping out of his hair for a change.

Oh, and the bit of fluff on the side by the name of Hermione Granger.

A twinge of guilt surged through him and he faltered mid-whistle. Surely, he hadn't begun to think of the brilliant, gorgeous young witch in such blasé' terms? Yet there it was. Arthur didn't whistle anymore but made his stride more purposeful. Reaching the trinket shop right around the corner, his firm, fatherly hand pushed the door open and was greeted by the tinkle of bells welcoming the arrival of customers.

He'd never been in this particular store before. Colorful faux beads hung in a catty-whompus way from the ceiling. He had to dodge the glittering plastic ornaments that caught the sunlight from every direction, nearly blinding him in his haste to avoid their unavoidable clutches. Batting them away, a bright, cheery voice greeted him from beyond the annoying veil of baubles clutching and catching in his suit coat.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes, ah, yes if you would be so kind as to vanish a few of these – things- I'd be ever so grateful."

With a swish and a flick the unknown witch freed the poor man so he was able to finally make out the nature of the shop.

"How do you do?" Quite pleased with himself for remembering the Muggle formality, Arthur hefted a strange-looking item in his hand and turned it around several times before putting it back on its pedestal.

The middle-aged witch sashayed from around the counter to stand quite close to him. She watched him perusing the stock nearest to where he was standing with a puzzled expression on his face.

Not deigning to answer his original question, she merely studied him curiously.

Arthur was surprised to see the witch standing so close. As he took a step back she followed a step forward.

"Ah, miss? Madam?"

"Madam Lovel."

"Madam Lovel." iOdd name, that./i " Yes, well, ah- what is the nature of your shop?"

"Pardon?"

She now stood so close the front, colorful swirls of her loose blouse were giving him a headache. An almost indistinguishable scent crept into his large nostrils when he inhaled sharply at the sight of her bosom tips pressing lightly against his belly. Offhandedly he mused somewhere in the back of his brain that she was mighty short for a witch.

Clearing his throat loudly and willing himself to look into her eyes and not at her chest, he repeated himself with a hint of desperation.

"I asked, ma'am, what is the nature of your shop? What manner of items do you sell? Do you have anything that might be of interest to say, uh-"

He was going to say a young lady, but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. In fact, if he had simply stated his business she wouldn't have. It was a big, toothy grin that greeted him at his hesitation.

"-of interest to a young lady, perhaps?"

He nodded and then shut his eyes tightly and shook his head emphatically. "Yes! I mean no! I mean yes! No! What I mean to say is-"

Giving the flustered man a wink and a nod, she curled one very short, fat finger toward him with a nail over an inch long painted in blood red polish.

Free of her disturbing bosoms, Arthur gingerly stepped through the messy shop like a puppy on a leash. It amazed him how small the place seemed to be yet how much istuff/i was crammed into the place. Rather like his own home. He shrugged, vowing to go on a cleaning spree that weekend. Arthur had way too many Muggle do-dads to ever tinker with in his or the next generation's lifetime. Perhaps if he was able to sell them he could buy Hermione something really nice…..

Nearly crashing into the witch, he caught himself on an overhead beam as she gazed almost adoringly at a plain, non-descript looking wood box. It had scratches and scuffs all over it and didn't look like anything special. The woman gingerly picked it up and reverently handed it to Arthur. He stared at it blankly and then looked up at the shopkeeper.

"This?"

She nodded and tried to hand it to him but he took a step back and scratched the back of his head, making a bit of a face. "Um, well, you see. I was really looking for something, um, well, more."

He held up his hands and gritted his teeth, hoping she wouldn't be offended by his refusal of her suggestion.

On the contrary, the witch reached out a hand and took hold of one of Arthur's larger ones. He allowed her to turn it over and run the pad of her thumb over the various lines gathered in criss-cross patterns throughout the lay of his palm. Fascinated, he watched as she scrutinized something of seemingly great interest before breaking his reverie.

"Mr. Weasley, you have a very long life line, right here." The stout witch traced over a line intersecting with several others but traveled down and off to one side.

Resisting the urge to shrug, Arthur instead continued to dutifully follow where she traced another bit that intersected his life line.

"You have many children."

He grinned. "Is it that obvious?"

She studied him without a smile. "There are not many witches and wizards with families as large as yours. It has taken a great deal of love, time and courage, not to mention resources to raise them. You must be on top of your game, Mr. Weasley, for the children not yet born will prove to be the most challenging of the brood."

"What?" He blinked a couple of times.

The witch smiled. "This is a surprise to you, yes?"

He nodded and indicated toward his palm. "How many?"

"Total?"

"Yes."

A closer squint and she smiled. "Ten."

"What?"

The witch wrinkled her nose. "Sir, I assume you heard me correctly. Nothing is written in stone, but I have even more rarely seen such strong intersections along a palm. It is very clear these souls are meant to be."

Wisely keeping his opinions to himself, he patiently waited for her to continue. It wasn't what he'd come in here for, but as long as she was on about it he'd indulge his own curiosity.

"There is a long love line with two very distinct branches. The second one branches here-" Again, she indicated. "Between the seventh and eighth child there is a crossover and a distinction of separation. Perhaps your new missus, hmmmm?" she teased.

Arthur's face grew red and he stammered an apology, snatching his hand back from the strange woman.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I really must be going."

"Of course." She plopped the ugly little box into his hand. It was light and curiously warm and smooth, like ivory, to the touch.

"No charge."

"What?"

The woman simply smiled and sashayed back to the other end of the shop, placing her round apple-shaped behind on a small stool that groaned in protest under her weight.

"I have fulfilled my purpose for today. You may go, and may love find you wherever you may go."

"What am I to do with the box?"

The witch's eyes seemed to glitter strangely and Arthur flinched. It was almost as if she were having an internal debate on whether to answer his question. Finally coming to a decision, she pursed her lips once more and cocked her head to one side.

"You do with it as you wish. I am only the Keeper. When it is time, I pass on the treasures that tell me with whom they wish to travel."

Arthur shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense, if you'll beg my pardon."

Once more the witch hopped off the stool and seemed to be in front of him instantly.

"It is not for you to know or understand. Simply follow your heart, and the rest shall follow. Now, Arthur, I have no further information for you unless you beg my ire. It is closing time and I am quite busy, as you can clearly see."

Rudely turning from him, she ignored his incredulity as his feet carried him to the door. Duly chastened, the confused wizard looked from the box in his hand and back over his shoulder to the gypsy woman with his back to him.

"Good day then, madam."

With a tinkle of the bell and a creak, he stepped out into the street and was aghast to find night had fallen. How much time had passed while he'd been in the shop? The entire exchange had only seemed to have taken ten minutes at best, but here, when he looked at glowing numbers from across the way in another store, he saw it was close to midnight. Molly was going to be furious.

Spinning back around on his heel, Arthur gasped to find an Italian restaurant behind him with a "closed" sign tacked onto the front door. The little shop was nowhere to be found. And how had she known his name? Stranger things had happened, he mused. He tucked the dubious treasure into his robes.

Turning into his cloak, he Apparated on the spot back to the Burrow where he endured a full hour of berating before he was finally left to curl up in his own, separate bed with a plain, empty brown box in his grip and the image of a brilliant, vivacious young witch writhing beneath him in his dreams.

It was brisk when Arthur managed to find the time away from Molly's honey-do list to make it to Hogwarts. Arthur liked to privately call it the honey-don't list, as it usually prevented him from going anywhere besides puttering about the Burrow. He was an absolute master at puttering. Exceled at it.

With his arms loaded with shrunken bags, he was relieved to see Hagrid and unload some of his parcels into the half-giant's arms, delivering them to the Muggle studies instructor. It pleased Arthur to not only be cleaning out his storage space, but it also ticked another item off his to-do list and Molly couldn't say shite about his trip to Hogwarts, despite her grumbles and admonishment that he not stop by Hogsmeade for a drink or three.

Hagrid dragged the poor man down to his hut for some Meade and rock-cakes, regaling Arthur with tales of the latest creatures he'd saved or encountered and his trip back to his mother's people to revisit the few friends he'd made while there during the war. Arthur was trying very hard to come up with an excuse to skive off when the perfect opportunity walked through Hagrid's front door.

The sun couldn't have rivaled the way Arthur beamed at Hermione when she came in holding a shivering, baby Kneazle. The little creature was crying piteously and the fur was sticking up every which way, caked with mud with bald patches.

Hagrid was on his feet in an instant. "Well, 'ermione! Where did ya get that? An let's take a look at the little feller."

Hermione handed him over to Hagrid and smiled almost shyly back at Arthur.

"I found him down on the far side of the lake. I was taking some food to your Hippogriff and to check up on her pregnancy when this little thing caught my eye. She was sticking halfway out of a submerged log and the giant squid couldn't quite reach her from the position of the log."

Hagrid wasn't really listening, by now already getting a small basin of warm water for the poor creature and speaking in low, soothing tones.

"Are you alright if I leave her with you?"

Hermione cleared her throat and rocked onto her tip-toes and back to her heels but didn't receive an answer. Grinning, she knew that meant yes, so she turned to Arthur and extended her hand.

"Walk with me?"

Gingerly setting aside the horrid Meade and rock cakes, he chanced a glance at Hagrid before slipping out the door with Hermione.

"Thank you!" he breathed when they were out of earshot of the hut.

"For what?" Her small hand fit so nicely in his and she liked the way he wrapped his all the way around hers, swinging it back and forth like old friends.

"For saving me. Don't get me wrong, Hagrid's an alright bloke, it's just-"

"He drives you nuts. I know, you don't have to tell me. He could talk the ear off Rita Skeeter."

They both laughed and fell into an easy stroll.

Chatting about nothing and everything, they simply enjoyed one another's company for a time, finding themselves at the far end of the lake whence Hermione had come.

"Want to see Esmerelda?"

"Who?"

"The Hippogriff."

"I don't know Hermione….."

Arthur had had a run-in with a Hippogriff in his fifth year. He had a small scar on his arm where he'd barely pulled away from its razor sharp beak. Another split second and he'd have had a prosthetic.

"She's gentle as a lamb. Come on, Emmy's cute, if a bit grouchy when she's pregnant."

What was it with witches pulling him into situations he had no business being in?

Arthur had wanted to give Hermione the box, feeling that it was the right thing to do, but it was so plain and ugly he kept it securely shoved deep in the folds of his robes and followed her instead.

Hermione picked up a bucket of foul-smelling dead meat after donning a pair of heavy work gloves. With a grin she tossed one of the dead animals to the ravenous Emmy, who in all her pregnant glory, wolfed it down whole and begged for more. Hermione obliged her with two more. Its raucous cry echoed across the lake and she laughed freely.

God how he loved listening to her laugh.

"Now now, Emmy. Don't be a greedy pig or we'll have to put you on a diet."

The Hippogriff just squawked at her again before stretching out its magnificent wings, closing them before folding its legs underneath to lie down for a rest.

"Isn't she stunning?" Hermione breathed, almost to herself.

"She certainly is," he murmured, staring at the witch in front of him and helpless before her. He would do anything for her. Hippogriff and box forgotten, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin on top of her head.

"Hermione…." He began, but trailed off. Instant doubt churned inside of him and right away he pushed down what he had so impulsively wanted to tell her. Now was not the time. Hell, it would never be a good time. As long as he remained married to Molly he just couldn't bring himself to say it. That would make it real, and this wasn't real. Even though he knew it was. It was just, well, complicated in a delicious and painful and wonderful and awful way.

"Arthur?" Her chin turned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his face but he stood a full head taller than she. She was rewarded with his better than five o'clock shadow scratching through the top of her French braid.

"Yes, love?"

"You were going to say something." She loosely held her hands over his splayed across her robe-covered belly.

"Was I? Oh, it was nothing I'm sure."

"Hmmmmm…"

So they just stood and enjoyed one another's company while observing Emmy preen and snuffle herself clean. Her belly almost seemed to flop and shift as the beast attempted to rub in the dirt for a dust-bath but squawked with indignation when it couldn't get over its fatness to do so.

The pair watching laughed at the hilarious antics.

Hermione could feel Arthur growing hard against her but didn't want to break the magic of the moment. It was so nice running into him at one of their favorite places. By now all the students would be back from Hogsmeade and heading to the Great Hall for supper.

Arthur began rubbing small circles over her stomach, sending a small thrill of anticipation through her. She let her head fall back against his chest and he stooped a bit to capture her lips in an awkward kiss.

"I've missed you," he moaned into her mouth and she answered with an audible sigh, just a whisper of breath against his own exhale.

Oblivious to any prying eyes, Arthur picked her up and waggled his eyebrows at her when she squealed.

"Hey!"

"Hay is for horses."

"You, you- ooohhh!"

Arthur endured her fake punches and protests as he took her a little way into the wood and lay her down on a soft bed of pine needles.

"We haven't much time. I wish I could do all the things I've been dreaming about." He pulled off his robes as she struggled out of her own.

"You've been dreaming about me?" She felt flattered in an odd sort of way. Hermione had accepted that what she was doing was wrong but justified it by telling herself that he was the one committing adultery, not her. And if the old bitch couldn't take care of his needs, than she would. And she did.

Arthur's breath caught at her chestnut curls peeking from over the top of her skimpy knickers. It never failed to make him harder than he'd ever been.

"I dream about you every minute of every day. How could my blood not run hot at the sight of you?"

He rushed her before she'd had time to get all of her clothing off. Arthur wanted to make love to her in her knickers and bra. It was so sexy and he'd wanted to try all sorts of things he considered exotic or taboo. With his own trousers still on he undid the clasp and with her help, pushed them down around his knees.

"Want you," she murmured into his shoulder when he plucked at the crotch to her knickers and pushed them to one side. The head of his prick was right there, sliding to gather the ample moisture on the tip and lube up her cleft from clitoris to backside.

"Gods, Hermione. You are everything."

He thrust home and it was like seeing the truth for the first time. The perfect fit had him aching to come. Oh, how he wished he could take her as often as he was able, at least for a little while so he could feel sexually sated for once. Although she satisfied him, he was quickly hard and wanking again soon after their encounters. If anything the illicit sex made him more insatiable. Where he figured a wizard his age ought to be slowing down he actually found himself randier than ever.

"More, I need to feel you. Move inside of me, oh god yes!"

Arthur's cock seemed to rub over the sweet spot inside of her she could barely reach with her own fingers and often strained, hurting herself in the process with her vigorous masturbation sessions. It was so good to have his long, thick member pulsing inside of her. She wanted every fucking inch of him to blow its pearl payload deep, coating her with its viscous embrace.

Arthur could already feel her walls tightening and he moved his hips so they ground over her clit in succession. Her knickers edge was scraping against his cock as he moved in and out and the added friction made his forehead bead with perspiration as he struggled to hold on through her orgasm.

Hermione bit her lower lip and buried her head in his chest, her nose tickled by the sparse hairs that feathered his freckled skin. She grunted and moaned as quietly as she could, a stark contrast to the loud slapping of the hard wizard's ball sac against her perineum.

His thrusting sped up and became desperate. Once again he couldn't hold back as he felt the ecstasy escape inside of the warmth that promised deliverance from his daily misery. Arthur so desperately want to shout that he loved her, that she was everything and always would be. Instead he settled for wrapping his arms under her and burying himself as completely into her depths as possible until the last shudder was torn from his body and he collapsed to the side of her, pine needles sticking to them everywhere.

His breathing harsh, he managed to grunt out, "-have, have to go, love. Getting late."

She gave him an affirmative nod, still too breathless herself to reply coherently. A few careless flicks of his wand had his pants on backwards, tie wrapped around one arm and his shirt over his jacket.

Hermione doubled over with laughter, choking when the air ran out and she was caught between mirth and mayhem.

With a goofy smile her lover fixed his little mistake and pounded her on the back until she quit gasping and was breathing normally.

"Oh my god! Don't ever do that to me again!"

"I like making you laugh, Hermione."

Their countenance became somber in a heartbeat and they reached for one another, that last, desperate kiss that made either heart clench with sorrow, as parting is sweetly such.

"Hermione-," Arthur tried once more, but the words fell from his lips when a swirl of black cloak faded from his line of vision to the far right corner of his eye. Turning sharply, his wand at the ready, his actions had Hermione on her feet and in her clothing second to nothing.

"What is it?"

The tense silence was broken by his harsh, hurried whisper. "I saw someone. We must go."

The pair melted deeper into the forest before Apparating to their separate, lonely lives where the other only lived in daydreams and bouts of deja' vu when unexpectedly coming upon another couple in the throes of new love, holding hands or kissing with tender devotion.

And a man in swirling black robes sneered, bending down to pick up a nondescript, rather ugly and worn wood box. It was warm to the touch and smooth like satin or ivory. Although it seemed to be innocuous, Severus Snape knew there were many magical objects that were much more than their bland exterior. The general rule was the more plain and ugly it was the more powerful or unusual it usually was.

And if Arthur Weasley deigned it important enough to have secured it to his person, it did, indeed warrant further query.

One could almost see the wheels turning within the glittering, bottomless black eyes of the Potions master as he leisurely made his way to the dungeons and a warm hearth and Firewhiskey to ponder over this new little mystery and the juicy little tryst amongst two of the most unlikely candidates he'd ever come across.

A juicy mystery, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6 A Woman Embraced

Arthur's heart was heavy, his hand pausing on the doorknob of his home. He could hear shouting inside. It was Molly cursing him for leaving his 'fucking Muggle contraptions to clutter up and undo all her hard work on purpose.' Arthur had never purposely left a mess to aggravate his wife. In fact, the reason some of it was still out was because Molly had bitched at him to get going to Hogwarts so he'd be home in time for dinner. He hadn't had time to put it away yet.

It seemed she always set him up for failure.

Pushing his way inside, the tirade ended instantly but her narrowed eyes and hawk-like glare, hands on her hips and red hair frizzing out of the bun on top of her head made her look like the old mother harpy she had turned into. She still managed to stir the longing inside of him for the old Molly; the kind, motherly witch with a fierce temper but healing hand and gentle heart.

He couldn't bring back their son. No one could, yet she seemed bound and determined to take it out on him for all eternity.

"Where in Merlin's name have you been Arthur Weasley? I've had dinner waiting for nigh on an hour. Well, now it's cold and you're just going to have to warm it yourself. I haven't the time with this horrid mess you've left behind. I swear to the high heavens, if it weren't for me this poor excuse for a house would be piled high like a rubbish tip by now."

She continued to rattle on as he hung up his jacket, headed to the table and cast a warming charm on his food. His appetite was gone but he chewed and swallowed nonetheless. He was shite at cooking and Molly was still the best cook he knew of.

Had she really insulted their home?

"Molly?"

"-and then there's your dirty socks on the floor. Do you know they attract bugs? I swear I saw something crawl out of one the other day and-"

"MOLLY!" He hated shouted but igoddamnit,/i she never shut up.

There went the hands on the hips again; no, fists.

"Would you shut it for two whole minutes? I'm trying to eat my supper in peace, woman. I can't believe you think our home is a poor excuse to live in. I have worked hard to support this family." He took another bite and chewed.

Molly stalked to the other side of the table and pressed her fingers over the top of a chair, her knuckles white and cheeks a rosy red. "Do you know what your problem is, Arthur? You take me for granted. All of you have! Not once have you bothered to fix this house. Do you know there are over one hundred simple charms to fix furniture alone? But far be it from me to teach you how to be a real wizard. After all, the iMuggle/i world is far more interesting!"

Arthur did NOT like how this conversation was going. Over the past month Molly had made increasingly disparaging comments about Muggles and Muggleborns. He even thought she had been about to say Mudblood at one point, but had corrected herself too quickly for him to be sure as he'd been preoccupied at the time.

"I'm sorry you feel taken for granted, Molly. I will try to be more attentive." Straightening up in his chair, he pushed the plate away. All he wanted was peace in the home and was willing to admit maybe he'd been a bit lax in positive attention towards her. She continued to regard him. "Please tell me how I can be a better husband to you."

For once Molly was completely silent. As the minutes ticked by Arthur fought the urge to clear his throat, fidget with is collar, drum his fingers against the table; anything to break this tense stalemate with his lifelong partner and love. If she didn't have anything to say, than what was the ireal/i issue?

"I have nothing more to say to you."

Molly Weasley threw her apron at him and flounced up the stairs.

Confused and a little hurt, and feeling extremely guilty considering where he'd been a short time ago, Arthur sighed and went up to his room to turn in early. Patting down his robes for the little box, he panicked when he couldn't find it. Taking a deep breath, he went slowly and methodically through the inner folds of the robes once more. It was gone.

"Damnit!"

That meant a trip back to Hogwarts to look for it. It was too late in the day now to head back. With all the junk he still had to clear out the next day, another trip to the Muggle Studies professor wouldn't be out of order. Satisfied that he must have dropped it, the frustrated man took a shower, read for a while in front of the fire and fell asleep with his chin on his chest and a book dangling off one knee.

It just ihad/i to be here! The stocky wizard clawed through the pine needles littering the forest floor, frantically searching for the box. He didn't know why it was so important. It was just a stupid, ugly little box given to him by some crack job gypsy-witch, right?

Well, she had disappeared. And she had said some pretty fantastic things about his future. And she ihad/i known his name even though he hadn't told her.

But he did work at the Ministry and was rather well known for his work on Muggle artifacts and for Head of Magical Creatures promotion, as well as his role in the war.

As the internal argument raged, the tips of his nails turned raw where he bit them down and became even more embedded with dirt. After a full hour of scraping about for a hundred meters in every direction he gave up and Apparated back home. What a drag! Gods, now what was he going to give Hermione? 

Well, he hadn't planned on giving her the box anyway until he figured out what its purpose was. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, he was dreadfully anxious about the upcoming dinner this evening with many of the former Order members including Harry and Ginny, Remus, Snape (if he decided to show up), McGonagall, and many others. Molly had been up since before dawn preparing and when he had offered to help, chased him out of the kitchen with a rolling pin. So much for making it up to her.

The worst of it was, well, best of it; Hermione was coming. Arthur didn't know whether to play it down, act natural or hide, faking illness. Surely things had gone from casual to something more? How on earth was he supposed to play it down? Arthur was a wizard who normally didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, but tonight it was bound to be painted on his forehead.

His trousers tented and he cursed. There was no stopping the man downstairs from having his way every time he thought of her. Arthur's not-so-little Arthur wanted a piece of her at every opportunity and then some.

The bark of the tree felt cool and rough against his heated skin. Undoing his Muggle buckle and releasing his engorged member from its confines, he began to stroke it between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. Viscous pre-come lathered his shaft. Closing his eyes, Arthur let his head fall back between his shoulder blades and lean one shoulder against the tree for support.

He relived their last encounter under that very tree. She was so fucking gorgeous. Any man would be the luckiest wizard alive to call her his wife. The living color fantasy forced him to grip his cock fully; his hand the imaginary tight sheath of her cunt.

"Ah!" He ground his teeth together, sharp stabs of pleasure rocketing through him like the aftershocks of lightning striking the ground, zapping everything in its path.

His balls tightened, release imminent.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Shock as he recognized the voice of Severus and then consuming bliss spurting thickly over his fist. The moment ruined, he turned slightly, flicked away the mess and promptly tucked himself away.

A tight smile, fake and polite.

"Severus."

That goddamn smirk was firmly in place. Snape had known iexactly/i what he was interrupting.

"My apologies for disturbing you, but I believe I have something of yours."

"Oh really? And what might that be?" Arthur fidgeted with his hands in front of him, sorely lacking at covering up his nervousness and worried anticipation at what the Slytherin may have procured.

Fuck.

The box.

A cracked, weathered-looking hand held the ugly thing on the flat of his palm. His face a blank mask, Severus Snape extended it to the older wizard, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yours, I presume?"

Arthur made a face and stuttered.

"Uh, well I, um, that is to say that well, no. I mean yes. That is, well yes. Thank you Severus."

He took a step forward and snatched it from his hand, stepping back quickly and vanishing the box into his robes.

Now he knew who had seen them the previous evening. Double fuck.

Arthur wanted to wipe that knowing smirk off his chiseled face. The man had some real big balls interrupting his wank.

"Well, thank you once again. I'll just be on my way."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure you will."

Snape made a pointed look at Arthur's groin before pursing his lips and turning away.

Just before Apparition, he heard the Potions master add, "Oh and Arthur? I'll have your best Scotch, on the rocks, and I enjoy my lamb rare."

Double fuck indeed.

Had ieveryone/i showed up? Good God, the Burrow was packed. In fact, there were so many witches and wizards attending their little soiree' it was stifling inside. Standing room only, he had transfigured three additional tables, four long benches and a lit walking path that wound through Molly's garden and down a local path through the swamp. Not exactly romantic, but it would do.

At every turn he was accosted. There seemed to be no getting away from the small talk, but at least he hadn't had to confront Hermione or Severus. Yet.

Speak of the devil! Arthur spied Hermione across the yard from where he stood engaged in an animated discussion with another witch. Arthur himself was bantering with Kingsley over Quidditch outcomes. A seeker couldn't have stopped a tall, dark wizard from boring down on the unsuspecting witch. Arthur winced when Snape intercepted Hermione and took her firmly by the elbow, steering her gently but firmly around the house while whispering in her ear. A quick wink in his direction and they disappeared from sight.

"Excuse me, Kingsley. There are some other guests I haven't greeted yet."

"Of course. Carry on, excellent party."

Extracting himself, Arthur failed to make himself inconspicuous as he charged across the yard, right through the middle of two dinner conversations and a swish and flick demonstration for the younger set.

Needless to say, more than a few sets of eyes followed his blazing path out of sheer curiosity.

Rounding the side of the house was a minor disappointment. Only a few lingering guests on this side facing the forest and a pair of snogging teenagers were in view. He impatiently separated the teens and plowed on ahead. He had to find out what that sneaky bastard was up to.

The fruitless search to the other side of the house again had him panicking. Where was she? He couldn't even get inside the house now it was so full. There was no way he'd have taken her in there. He set off down the path with renewed determination. A narrowed set of eyes and several others murmured to one another and followed him at a discreet distance.

Several hundred yards into the forest, Hermione was forced to hold on to the back of Snape's robes to keep from losing him in the thickening brush and tangles of branches snapping back into her face, arms and legs.

"Would you stop? Where are you taking me?"

"Here."

He stopped so abruptly Hermione ran into the back of his tall, lanky frame.

There didn't seem to be anything special about this particular spot so Hermione assumed he had wanted to assure privacy for whatever discussion he had so urgently insisted they have iin private./i

She rolled her eyes mentally. "Well?"

"Patience, Miss Granger, never was one of your more…. alluring attributes."

Releasing his robes, Hermione rubbed at a red mark on her arm where a branch had flipped back and stung her tender skin. Severus caught the tiny movement and flowed forward into her space, long, pale fingers whispering over the mark. As his touch brushed against the skin the mark vanished.

"I had forgotten you had such power with wandless magic," she mused, satisfied he'd mended the mark.

"Are you injured elsewhere?" he inquired silkily, letting his voice drop an octave. He knew full well the effect it had on woman and had no qualms about using it to get him what he wanted now that his dues to society had been paid.

Hermione gestured to three other marks on her other arm and one knee. The same fluttering gesture was a soft, non-threatening caress and she murmured her thanks.

Backing up a step, he folded his arms over his chest and arched a crooked brow.

"What?"

"I think you know full well why I've pulled you aside, Hermione. Don't play coy with me."

Hermione surprised him by laughing. His lips thinned into a tight line, offended at her seeming mocking of his opening declaration.

"I can see that not much has changed over the years regarding the rudeness of the Gryffindor golden girl."

"Oh, Snape. You can't possibly be serious," she grinned, slapping her thigh. "Honestly? It was the look on your face. You were so dead serious when you said that. How could I possibly know why I'm out in the middle of this thicket with my old potions teacher? You know damn well Divination was my worst subject."

"Indeed." She was a fascinating creature, and after what he had witnessed such a short time ago, she had fired his imagination even further. The young witch had displayed such wanton and open desire for her red-haired, wayward lover he had instantly had to release himself as well.

With a straight face once more she cocked her head. "Okay, I'm done now."

He nodded once and turned slightly. "A little birdie has informed me of certain- indiscretions you've been carrying on with one Arthur Weasley."

He tilted his head forward so he could look at her from the cover of his long, stringy black hair. Her face turned a shade paler than she had been. Good. It was a step in the right direction.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. I would never-"

"Don't. Even. Start. Miss. Granger!" he growled, suddenly in her face, his nose touching her own, and the curve of the hook was midline to her eyes.

The man still had the power to exude power, radiate intimidation and now that she was an adult, she immediately recognized a distinct, dark animal magnetism that came to him as naturally as breathing. Of course; it made sense as he was into the Dark Arts and had been a Death Eater for many years, if only in name for several of them.

"What do you want from me?" Her hand inched towards her disillusioned wand at the back of her trousers. His tight fist around her wrist had her gasping with pain.

"You will keep your hands where I can see them, witch," he ground out tightly.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. It had been a mistake to follow him out of sight of the house without telling anyone. Why, oh why was she so impulsive? Curiosity really would kill the cat one of these days, she reckoned. Hermione wasn't really afraid of Snape. He just had a tendency to be unpredictable and manipulative. Well, she had learned a thing or two since graduation.

Severus sucked in a sharp breath. The way she bit her plump bottom lip left him breathless. It was such an innocent, sexual move and was even more alluring because she wasn't aware it was such.

A long, slender finger traced her jawline. "What are you willing to give me, witch?"

Hermione jerked her head to the side. "Keep your hands off of me."

"Feisty." He moved his head around and gripped her chin more forcefully between his thumb and forefinger. His body surged forward, pressing her against the tree a little too intimately.

"I'll fight you."

"I hope that you do."

Her other hand flew of its own accord to strike him a stinging slap across one cheek. Hermione knew that striking him would only enrage him and had probably hurt her hand more than it had his cheek. She was right.

"That was highly inadvisable at best, witch!" he ground out and thrust against her with his generous erection.

"You'll have to force me if that's what you want."

"Oh, I don't think so, iHermione/i," he sneered her name. "You will give to me what I saw you lavish so foolishly on that pathetic excuse for a wizard Arthur Weasley. And you will not only give it to me willingly, you will extract far more pleasure from the act of our coupling, guaranteed."

"Nothing you can say will ever make me want you!"

His brutal, unwanted kiss made her spit in his mouth.

Severus pulled back his own hand as if he were going to strike at her but withheld his it when she tried to duck.

Very slowly, he appraised her and lowered his hand.

"No, Hermione. I shall never strike you, nor have I ever struck a woman out of anger. I will not start now. By the gods, woman but you do infuriate me so!"

Collecting both of her wrists in one hand, he held them over her head high against the rough bark, still pressed against her intimately.

The proximity of his body was doing things to her that she had no intention of following through on. Hermione would be damned before she'd be coerced into sexual relations with Severus Snape. The very idea repulsed her even as it attracted her. The fellow bibliophile, scholar and brilliant swot in her was desperately attracted to the same sort of brilliant mind. That was what drew her to Arthur initially. That, however, was where she drew the line. While she wasn't picky about looks, the gall of Snape's entitlement was a complete turn-off.

"There is nothing you can say, Severus, so you may as well release me before I am missed."

That slow, nasty smirk lit up his dark features. "Oh my dear, wouldn't it be a shame if news of your little tryst with your employer were to make the front page of the Daily Prophet?"

Hermione gasped. "You…. You snake! You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" He lowered his head and brushed her lips with his own. "Give yourself to me, Hermione, and I will make a vow to counter to that. I want to taste what you give so freely to a married wizard, no less the father of your ex. What would the blessed Harry Potter have to say?"

Hermione bit back a sob. So this is where she ended up; in the arms of a conniving, desperate man with the power to ruin not only her own career but the one of a man she loved still financing the further education of his remaining children who'd gone on to Uni.

"That's right. Just think about it, Hermione. Poor, disgustingly sweet Arthur cannot afford to let this slip, can he?"

"I hate you!" She struggled against him when he chuckled at her outburst.

"Hate me all you want. You will give yourself to me. Kiss me willingly, Hermione. I need to feast on that filthy mouth to see what entices such a good, upstanding member of society to stoop to havean adulterous affair with an over-achieving, insufferable Know-It-All!"

She didn't resist this time when he came down to claim her mouth. Her salty tears mixed with her kisses when he forced his tongue into her mouth and released her wrists, allowing his hands to roam through her tangled tresses and over her jumper, fondling the swell of breast just underneath.

"Don't cry for him," Snape whispered when he pulled away momentarily. "He'll only break your heart, in the end. They always do."

Hermione gave him a curious look at the out of character declaration from this cold-hearted man.

As if he'd never let down his guard he plundered her mouth again and allowed his hands to slide under her jumper to palm the plump globes encased in silky lace.

"Hermione, I need you. Give yourself to me."

"Are you really going to make me do this?" She whimpered, fresh tears falling as he snatched her wand and tossed it away when she reached for it.

"I make you do nothing. It is your choice. Give yourself to me or I will go to the Prophet with your shameful affair with Weasley."

Her lower lip trembled as her chin dropped. "Alright." The subdued response earned a growl of satisfaction from Snape as he spun her around and pushed her against the tree.

"Brace yourself."

He vanished her trousers but left her jumper and shoes on, kicking her legs apart with one dragon-hide boot. Swiftly releasing himself and not bothering to undress, his robes flowed around her when he moved forward to press against her wet, scorching heat.

"Yes!" he hissed, his thick cock slipping inside. He was longer and thicker than Arthur, too big for her small stature. She cried out as he slid home and his balls were nestled against her labia.

"You're hurting me!"

Severus groaned and snapped at her. "Don't be so melodramatic. You'll adjust."

He gave her a moment to do so, kissing a trail along her neck, hunched over her and primed to fuck this elusive piece of fluff. Gods, she was so tight it made him want to come on the spot. He had to think of various unsatisfying things to refrain from blowing it right then and there.

The plush curve of her arse made his balls nearly blue with discomfort. When he came, it was going to be long and hard, that was for sure.

"Just get it over with," she muttered through clenched teeth.

A gasp escaped her traitorous lips when his fingers deftly found her clitoris and gently plied the sensitive nubbin. Merlin the man was talented! Against her will, she began to push back onto him as her pussy provided the ample lube he had been so desperate to wrench from her.

"Yes, you feel it, don't you, witch? My hard cock inside of your tightness, legs spread, head down, subservient. Beg me, witch. I want to hear you beg."

"No!" she cried but groaned when he pulled his fingers away. He began thrusting gently against her, rocking back and forth just enough to cause a growing ache to burn in her belly without actually stoking the flame any higher.

"Beg me and I shall grant you release." Snape lightly brushed his fingers over her clitoris once more and she bucked against it, desperate for friction. He slapped her hand away when she tried to bring herself off.

"Never!" His cock disappeared from inside of her and nestled against her entrance. iNo!/i she cried internally.

"Are you making your choice, Hermione?" he asked almost conversationally.

"Please," she whimpered again.

"I can't hear you Hermione. What did you say?"

She grit her teeth. "I said, please! Don't do this to me! Don't make me beg!"

"It's a simple enough request. I am a fair man, but my patience is wearing thin." He rubbed his cock along her cleft and felt her wiggle against him. Those magical fingers teased her entrance and rubbed hard against her clit before retreating again.

"Severus, please!"

"Yes…?" he drawled, pushing his cock in an inch.

"Please fuck me," she whispered, the tears falling freely to the forest floor from the tip of her nose.

"As you wish my dear," he replied smugly, at last pushing his aching dick to the hilt and slamming it back home within her again and again. The tight, pulsing glove of her cunt was the best thing he'd ever felt. If there was heaven on earth it was right here between this witch's thighs. Her breathing was becoming labored as he flicked, rubbed and tweaked her clit in rapid succession in time to his pounding.

"Beg me!"

"Please, Severus, fuck me harder!" she cried.

"Who's fucking you, witch?"

"Severus Snape!"

"And don't you ever forget it!"

"Gods almighty, fuck!" Her vaginal walls clamped down around his cock as she cried out incoherently, crying and coming on his pounding dick, the juice leaking profusely from her sopping cunt and he ground his teeth in a supreme effort to keep up the punishing rhythm he'd established.

Wet slapping continued as the witch under his cock slowly finished keening but continued to push against him, fully acclimated to his ginormous endowment.

The delicious tightness swelled with his balls. Sweet Merlin, he wanted so badly to release himself inside of her but pride forced him to pleasure her once more. He rode her hard and fast, humping her like two indigenous forest animals in a reckless mating dance against time and reason.

His hips began to burn, arse muscles clenching, fingers cramping over her clit as he ground his palm against her lips and pleasure center.

"Fuck yes, Severus!" she called out as an even more powerful orgasm shook her slight frame and at last milked the intense climax from the self-serving Potions master.

In a triumphant thrust at hearing her name spill from his lips he allowed himself to burst forth inside of her, thick jets of pent-up come soaking her cervix, womb and inner walls. His thrusts at last becoming shallow, the immensely satisfying climax now ebbing from his groin, he rested his head on her back and knew he would have to have her again.

Without a word they tidied themselves. Hermione tried to hide the look of disgust and shame from him but couldn't manage. Her leaky eyes made her mad with herself.

"Come now. I ensured you were pleasured as well."

"That's not the point. You forced me!" she yelled, suddenly not caring if her voice would carry to the party goers.

"Shut your mouth!"

"I will not! You're a rotten snake and I hate you!"

"I did not hold a wand to your throat, Miss Granger. You were a willing participant in the act, or was my name on your lips an auditory illusion?"

"You fucking bastard!"

"That, I am."

At a stalemate, she retrieved her wand, making a show to holster it. Arms crossed, she raised her tear-stained cheeks and chin to him. "We made a deal. I want a vow from you."

That smirk was back. Hermione's stomach dropped into her shoes.

"You- you wouldn't!"

"You seem to have a bad habit of repeating yourself, Miss Granger. What is it you think I wouldn't do?"

"You have to honor our agreement! You said- you promised- I-"

"I made no such arrangement."

"Goddamnit Snape!" She wanted to hex the sneer off his face forever. "What a low, sneaky, rotten person you are!"

"And your point is?"

"I'll say you raped me."

His rage from before was nothing compared to the dark wizard's wand at her throat.

"You will do no such thing, Hermione. Under Veritaserum the truth will be revealed and not only will your sordid little affair come to light, so will your willingness to be blackmailed for sexual favors to your ex-professor."

"You'll lose your job."

"So will you. I can start my own business and have nothing to lose. What have you to lose? And think hard on it, Hermione. I will not be forgiving if you choose unwisely."

She could see in his glittering, cold black eyes that he meant every word.

"I won't come to you again."

"You will."

He removed his wand and backed off, flipping the hair from his face.

"Don't you have a party to attend, Miss Granger?"

With a huff she scurried past him back toward where they'd entered the forest. Hermione heard Arthur calling her name, thrashing around at the perimeter. iSnape must have warded the area!/i

Determined to get back at him later, she emerged from the thick shrubs disheveled, tear-stained, her jumper snagged and trousers with stains on them. Arthur rushed to her and embraced her tightly.

"I was so worried when you disappeared with Severus. He knows about us, he-"

"I know," she interrupted grimly.

He got a good look at her for the first time.

"What in god's name happened to you?" His strong arms went around her once more and she clutched him to her as if he were a life preserver in the storm she was suddenly drowning in, alone in a vast sea of unfriendly and hostile forces.

Footsteps and mutterings reached their ears and curious onlookers closed in around them.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" accused an irate Molly. Hands on her hips, Harry, Ginny and a few other witches and wizards from the party cast dubious looks at the pair.

"Hermione was missing. I went to look for her."

"That's not what it looked like to me, Arthur!"

He took Hermione's hand and grasped it firmly. Heart in her throat, Hermione felt her world spin when he started to say the words.

"Molly, there is something I need to tell you. Hermione and I, we-"

"Were just discussing the reason for her disappearance," came the silky drawl emerging from the forest behind them.

Shocked and curious glances took in the immaculate form of the Potions professor. Molly looked confused, but none more so than Arthur and Hermione.

"As I was saying," he continued, brushing imaginary dust from his robes, "he was about to tell you that she was with me. We had a row over private matters and took our time- making it up to one another. I apologize for worrying you." The corner of his lip curled upwards at the flabbergasted faces in front of him. Mission accomplished, the Potions master blatantly zipped his fly and strode off in search of something to imbibe that had strong alcohol content.

Molly whipped her head around so fast it was a miracle it didn't spin all the way off.

"Hermione? You and Professor Snape?" She let the question hang in the air between them all.

Harry stepped forward hesitantly.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Taking a noticeable few steps away from Hermione, Arthur gazed down at her incredulously. It wouldn't do for him to contradict Snape, but he was as shocked as anyone else.

Hermione almost sobbed again when Arthur pulled his hand from her grasp. His accusing stare cut her like an iron-hot, serrated knife through the heart. In their depths she read the message written so plainly.

iHow could you do this to us?/i

Hermione had nothing to say.

With a flick of her wand, she iCracked/i away from the stunned group without warning.

The last thing she saw was the sadness and heartbreak in his eyes and she knew then, that he had loved her and had been about to tell Molly of their relationship, and quite possibly his intentions. It crashed down on her, all the times he had tried to tell her he loved her and she never listened, frightened of her own feelings for a married, older man.

Hermione threw herself onto her bed after throwing up every ward she could think of to keep people away from her and poured her angst, heartbreak, self-disgust and sorrow into her pillow until at long last, she fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep, bereft of his strong, warm embrace by her own weak-willed actions. The shadows grew long and slipped around her home and bedroom, a dark mantel oblivious to the frantic shouts fading to silence after giving up on gaining entrance to her home.

She shivered, curled in on herself even more and slumbered on.


	7. Chapter 7 A Woman Confronted

Authors Note: I DO read and appreciate all reviews! I have the plot for the next chapter sorted already. I am a full time college student and have two special needs children/homeschool mom so please be patient with uploads. I just finished this chapter today and have other stories I am working on. Thank you for your interest in this story. It will be fifteen parts, or thereabouts, so if you have suggestions, critiques, constructive comments etc please let me know, and add to your faves for updates! Thank you!

Hermione spent the worst night of her life in her flat. When she woke up the first thing she noticed was the raunchy stench emanating from in between her thighs. It all came rushing back. The party, the discussion and blackmail from Snape and then his filthy, gorgeous hands possessing her hips as he drove into her again and again, giving her two of the most intense orgasms of her life.

And she had allowed it to happen. Not only had she carried on with Arthur, but now had betrayed him as well. If he'd no respect for her before there certainly wouldn't be any now. Hermione almost gagged when she hobbled to the loo, sore and boneless. Pulling down her soaked knickers nauseated her with Snape's thick, musky scent souring her crotch. Gods she hated that smell. He probably had eaten onions or something horribly strong for it to affect her olfactory nerves to such an extent.

Wrinkling her nose and pushing all thoughts of the previous day from her mind, she turned on the shower and made it run as hot as she could stand it. After a time her skin turned beet red from scrubbing herself raw and the scorching water that scourged her entire body. No matter how much she scrubbed, Hermione couldn't seem to get the icky feel of Snape off of her. She felt as if her skin was crawling with his lust and depravity. A sick part of her soul feasted on his darkness while the rest of her screamed that the whole thing was one fucked up, perverted mess that she'd never be able to unravel.

And the bastard had the audacity to think he'd keep blackmailing her to fuck him. Well, that bastard had another thing coming if he thought Hermione Granger was just going to turn tail and let him plug her. He'd crossed the wrong witch.

Hermione dressed sensibly and spent the day holed up in her flat. She had no wish to deal with the anger and finger pointing that was sure to await her on the other side of her wards. They'd all just have to wait. For a minute Hermione was tempted to remove the block on her Floo but decided against it. She wasn't ready to deal with Harry either. In the end she thought she might be able to talk to Remus but considering who she'd let fuck her, didn't feel he'd be very understanding of the situation either.

Hermione sighed and flopped back into her bed with a book. Her pretty brown eyes roamed the neat, organized, prized collection lining every inch of her walls. They were like her babies; her pride and joy. She'd collected or been gifted every one, able to tell a story as to where or whom they'd come from and what each one meant to her. They were her only true friends for many years.

The young witch summoned a glass of wine and proceeded to block out her thoughts, worries and what would happen at work the next day as she lost herself in the printed page and hazy glow of her floating lamps. At long last her head slumped over the book and her rooms grew dark once more as the day faded and another unsuccessful day had been spent outside her flat trying to break her wards.

"Goddamnit this is insane!" Harry ranted, pacing back and forth outside Hermione's flat. Kingsley, Ron, Harry and Remus had spent the better part of the day applying every ward breaking spell, charm or curse they could think of to no avail. There was no breaking through the powerful witch's wards. They'd even tried to get Bill to come over but he was having none of it. In his opinion, a witch with wards that strong was one that didn't want to be bothered and didn't want to get in her line of fire.

Eventually Remus got tired of it all and left, advising them to do the same and just leave her be. If he knew the witch, she'd be extremely pissed off if she caught a bunch of wizards outside her flat trying to break in, never mind they were some of her closest friends.

Ron left as the sun was going down, mumbling something about not wanting to keep Lavender waiting. Harry gave Kingsley a pleading look right before he shrugged and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the horizon.

"It's dinner time, mate. Leave her be. She'll come around."

"Fuck."

Harry didn't want to give up. Hermione had never given up on him. He wanted to know what the hell she had been thinking fucking Snape. It was so out of character and she hadn't been herself, distancing herself from him the past couple of years. He wanted the camaraderie they once shared, even if Ron wasn't a part of it. Harry missed his best friend. No one else had understood what the three of them had been through.

The young, determined wizard sat down on the sidewalk after casting a Cushioning Charm and Disillusioned himself, wrapped tightly in a thick robe. He would wait all fucking night and catch her on her way to work. She had to let the wards down sometime, even if it was only to Floo to the Ministry. He'd checked with Arthur and found she often spoke of a morning run. Hopefully, he's catch her out at that time.

Hermione woke at four thirty in the morning and pulled on her jogging suit and trainers. She needed to let off some steam and allow her brain to sort itself out before she faced the wizarding world and the inevitable scandal that she was fucking the resident Bat of the Dungeons.

The lovely young witch lowered her wards and peeked outside the building. The street was deserted; good. As soon as her foot hit the pavement something grabbed her, causing her to shriek and plunge her elbow backwards. It was her favorite move and never failed to startle an opponent that tried to grab her from behind.

"Fuck, Hermione, it's me!"

Strong arms let go of her as Harry appeared, doubling over in obvious pain where her sharp elbow had contacted Harry's stomach.

The brassed witch stood with her hands on her hips, head cocked to one side. This ought to be good. She gave him exactly ten seconds to start explaining what he was doing ambushing her outside of her flat before she hexed him with something really nasty.

Harry recognized that steely look in her eyes and held up one hand, still gasping.

"No, wait! I can explain!"

"You'd better explain, Harry Potter! You had no right staking out my flat like I was a common criminal!" Hermione took a threatening step towards him, reaching for her wand.

"I was worried about you!" he cried, stepping back and falling on his arse in his haste to back away from her. "We were all worried about you when you just- just disappeared yesterday. I haven't seen you that upset in a long time!"

Hermione's eyes softened and she pursed her lips, taking into account what he had said and the emotion, the sincerity behind his statement. She supposed she could forgive him. After all, it iwas/i Harry. Leaning forward, she extended her hand instead and helped him up. Harry cast her a grateful look and regained his feet, pulling her into a powerful hug. In fact, he hugged her so hard she had to push against his shoulders before he released her.

The handsome young wizard implored Hermione with his brilliant green eyes.

"You really were worried about me, weren't you?" she asked softly.

He nodded.

"Oh, Harry."

She scuffed the toe of her trainer against the concrete step. When she raised her gaze once more the worry was still evident but there was something else; a questioning look in his eyes that said he wanted to know what had happened in the forest, but wouldn't ask out of respect for her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He simply nodded once more.

"Harry, I'm fine. I'm just going out for a run and I'll find you after work, okay?"

With a small smile, he put one hand on her shoulder and gave it squeeze. "I'm here if you need me."

"I know."

He turned to leave and turned back when she reached out for him once more.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for caring about me."

"I'll always care about you Hermione; you're my best friend."

His sincere smile melted her heart and warmed her inside. With a grin she took off on her run, easily falling into her quick, short stride that ate up the miles as the sun rose, her thoughts melting into a semblance of acceptance that nothing in her life was ever going to be easy. She just had to be true to what she believed in and stay on course.

Sweating, exhausted, but happy, the vibrant young witch shrugged off her worries and cleaned up, Flooing into work, intent on getting about her day as ostentatiously as possible and vowing not to let speculation and heartache get to her. After all, it wasn't as if Arthur…. well, she wasn't going to think about how he felt.

Hermione skirted his office, hoping to simply slip by to pick up her next assignment. Dressed in field garb, she quickly grabbed the standard paperwork and made to slip past his office again when the door opened and Minister Malfoy stepped out, gesticulating grandly.

"And therefore, I want to see improvements in all field agents by the end of the month Mr. Weasley."

A pale, withdrawn and harried looking Arthur was nodding and murmuring assurances behind the self-important Minister.

Ruffling his robes and sneering down his nose at the Magical Creatures field operative, the peacock showpiece sidled around Hermione as if she were contaminated with some unknown carcinogen.

Hermione huffed her irritation at the retreating form of the hated man.

"Gods how I hate him!" she intoned, forgetting herself momentarily. She turned back to her assignment, startled when Arthur laid a warm hand over the sleeve of her robe.

"Please join me in my office for a moment?" he asked quietly, his striking blue eyes holding nothing but hurt and sincerity in them as he tried not to sound pleading.

Hermione had hoped to put this off a little longer until she had figured out a way to deal with Snape, but no such luck. With a simple nod she followed her employer and lover through the door to his office, an immediate ward and silencing charm put on behind her. She waited for him to speak, watching him pace back and forth over the plush carpeting to his desk and back, fingers locked together, held in a steeple at his chin in a way that reminded her sharply of the dark Potions Master. He came to a sudden stop in front of her, taking her by the shoulders unexpectedly.

"Hermione, please tell me. What do I mean to you?"

His grasp was rough, not at all like the gentle Arthur she was used to. While he was indeed passionate, and had bruised her with it on occasion, this urgency was altogether different from any other he'd expressed before.

"You-you're hurting me!" she gasped, trying to wrench away. He simply held her tighter, agonized.

"You must tell me! I can't go one this way; trapped between lust and love, worry and deceit. Do you have any idea the predicament you've placed me in? I trusted you!"

The irony of his latter statement didn't escape either of them in the wake of their torrid affair, but nonetheless it still needed to be addressed.

"I know." She spoke quietly. If she'd any doubt as to his feelings, it was laid to rest with his next utterance.

"I love you, Hermione Granger. Let there never be a doubt in your mind that I love you with every bit of my heart and then some. This isn't just some random fling to me, a bit of fluff when I tire of my wife. YOU are the woman I want to be with, despite current circumstance, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you," he ended sadly, tired as a tear slid down his weathered cheek. His hands fell from her then and he turned, a silent sob shaking his solid frame.

Hermione wanted to run to him, to reassure him and proclaim her love for him in return. The words were stuck in her throat; they felt oily and deceitful in the wake of his profession. How could she claim to love a man that was so forthright with her, when she herself allowed her own body to be used for blackmail? Hadn't either of them the guts to sacrifice for one another, or was that not even an option when that decision would affect the well-being of so many others in ways that were unfathomable to them at the current moment?

He continued to stand, affected, his back to her as he seemed to sink to his knees and then was upon them on the floor, the fabric of his robes pooling uselessly around him.

Hermione still didn't go to him. She needed to figure out what she was going to do. In the meantime, it was up to him to decide whether she was what he truly wanted, or if it wasn't worth the price in the long term.

"I can't apologize for what I've done. If you knew the reasons, they would surely sway you in a way that I don't want. You must come to your own conclusions as to why I allowed Professor Snape to fuck me."

Her crass language drew a harsh gasp from the ginger man and he regained his feet, rounding on her angrily.

"How dare you deny me an explanation! After what we've shared, and now I've opened the deepest part of myself to you, and you just had to throw it back in my face! Is this what you've turned into? A bitter old hag at such a young age, all due to a failed fuck with a married man over the rejection of his worthless git of a son's actions?"

Hermione felt her head whip to the side of its own accord as if he'd struck her down. He might as well have for the force of his anger behind the angry accusations. And he had every right to be angry with her, as she'd afforded him no other option.

"I won't explain myself to you. If you truly love me, you'll trust that I am doing what I must to rectify the situation."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, finally closing them in defeat. A strong hand mussed his already messy hair as it drew over the back of his scalp.

"Trust is a scarce commodity these days. I wonder what the word means to you or anyone else for that matter. Are you deserving of my trust, Hermione?"

Hermione studied this man who had stolen her heart so completely. He did not belong to her in a traditional sense, but he'd given himself to her in every other way. It wasn't enough. She selfishly wanted all of him, or none of him. This turning point was profound, an eye opening experience laid before them past the point of bluff.

"I would never betray you."

Slowly, as if the lifting of a fog, the mood lightened and Arthur was embracing Hermione so tight she gasped for air. He twirled her around several times before placing her lightly back on her feet and dipped his face to hers for an engaging, lasting kiss.

At long last he pulled away, both of them panting heavily, star crossed eyes filled with longing for the other. Arthur's thick erection was prominent through his robes, and Hermione wasted no time releasing it from behind the constraining fabric.

"Hermione!" he growled roughly, his voice thick with emotion. "We can't! Not in here!"

"I can't wait, I need you," she hissed at him, soaked and melting beneath her own robes.

She pushed him to the floor and exposed just enough of him to allow herself to hike up her robes and impale herself on his thick erection. Her viscous fluids coated him from tip to base, creamy and hot in her rush to consume his length.

"Hermione, oh.. fuck!"

The normally conservative wizard uttering a four letter expletive had Hermione crowing inside. She lowered herself over his chest and rocked on his erection while kissing him, devouring his tongue in her mouth and giving him her own in return. Their touches were like they'd never been apart and the frantic wizard couldn't contain his libido, his big hands grasping her hips and pulling her down hard even as he pushed into her. He swallowed her cries of pleasure as their ecstasy built quickly, spawned by the traumatic short term past but fueled by the intensity of their continued and building connection.

Neither would be denied.

"Want you, witch… need you…. Have you…. Going to lose it, oh Hermione, yes yes yes fuck yes Merlin!"

And he thrust into her violently on the last push, back arching off the floor as she bit down on his lip, igniting his orgasm that burst thickly from his cock, coating her cervix and inner walls with his pent up release.

Hermione brought her fingers down to her clit and brought herself over the edge with him, soaking his ginger curls with her secretions even as she spasmed strongly around his subsiding erection.

They breathed heavily against one another for several moments, trying to catch their breath and failing miserably. It was several more moments before Hermione was able to rise and cast a cleansing charm on her person and his. Each adjusted their robes and embraced.

"Don't leave me, Hermione. I couldn't bear it."

Hermione quailed at his needy confession but didn't feel that he was constraining her. It was a simple expression of the difficult position he was in.

"I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur nodded into the top of her bushy curls, sighing after she took her leave and left on assignment. And for a long while after she had left, he simply stood in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply of her scent, allowing himself to entertain the memory of their coupling over and over again until finally a bell chimed him back to reality and the stuffy beauracracy of the Ministry.


	8. Chapter 8 A Scarlet Woman

A Scarlet Woman

Hermione finished the last of her work for the day and pulled off her torn robes with disgust. It was highly idiotic of the Ministry to conform Magical Creatures field operatives to the stuffy, ugly robes that were assigned, but one mustn't' rock the boat of impropriety and give the general populace the wrong impression about wizarding government', as the flaccid fool of a Minister had trumpeted to her the one time she had dared to question the uniform.

Thankfully, her work had taken her to the outskirts of wizarding Britain, along the coast to a place where the salty spray of the ocean blasted her with the occasional shower, even as far in as she was with the Gryphons she'd been overseeing the care of. She turned her nose into the wind, grateful for the solitude that was afforded her by the job. As much as she'd enjoyed helping her friends through school, it was so nice to just get away from it all while getting paid to do what she loved. The friendly young man she'd worked with nodded gratefully to her and gingerly made his way back to the breeding pair, fussing about them to settle them in for the evening.

Hermione Apparated back to the Ministry. Normally, she was able to go about her business or go right home, but today she needed to replace her hated uniform. She arrived at the proper desk and registered more paperwork with the registrar as to the reason for her robes replacement. Then she filled out the proper report, as long as she was there, to conclude the day's job and the progress of the Gryphons, finally stalking tiredly down the hall to the Floo. She'd promised she'd meet with Harry, and although she'd no desire to head to the Leaky for a pint, it was his preferred watering hole after Quidditch practice on a minor league team or a long work day.

The unmistakable blond head of Lucius Malfoy swept around the corner just in front of her. Hermione slowed her steps deliberately, hoping he'd get far enough ahead of her so as not to see her and decide he had some pressing, inane pureblood business to bother her with. The man was much more nosy, now that he'd not as many connections afforded him, what with his young relative usurping a good deal of influence with the Malfoy name and societal positioning. Lucius had become a social brown noser. His job was an informal one, a sort of influential PR head he had bought and schmoozed his way into. It rankled Hermione that the man could basically get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted just because he was wealthy.

She darted to an opposite line for the Floo when he stopped to natter with another wizard she didn't recognize. The line grew shorter, as did her patience, counting down the people in front of her to leave the Ministry. Just as she was to step into the green flames a long, slender cane was thrust in front of her moving body. Caught off guard, she flung herself to the side and was neatly caught by Lucius himself.

"You going or not?" muttered the dumpy old witch behind her.

"Sod off," Hermione grumbled, wrenching herself free of Malfoy's grasp.

"No manners these days, I tell ya," the hag bitched as she disappeared into the flames.

Hermione glared into the crystalline grey eyes of her usurper. "Do you mind?" she asked rudely.

"Actually, I do. Please allow me to apologize for detaining you, Miss Granger. If you'd be so kind as to have a word with me in private?" he indicated smoothly, gesturing regally toward a side hallway she'd never been down before.

Hermione looked from the hallway back up to Malfoy's cool, expectant gaze. "Actually, I'm meeting a friend. So the answer is no, I am not available to have a word in private. You'll have to catch me another time."

With that flippant dismissal, she quickly jumped in front of another Ministry worker just as the flames turned green and disappeared to her destination.

"Pity," Malfoy murmured. With a bold flourish of his expensive robes, Lucius strolled as if he hadn't a care in the world, back to his own private Ministry office to send an Owl to one very special reporter who did side work for a gossip tabloid he privately, and secretly, owned. It truly was a pity she'd brushed him off so. No one dismissed a Malfoy and got away with it.

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Hermione sagged into her chair opposite Harry after he'd hugged her with a wide, boyish grin.

"Hiya 'Mione. You look like you've been run down by a Lorry," he observed, taking a deep draught from his pint.

Hermione nodded tiredly while ordering herself a shot of Firewhiskey. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at the stiff drink, but didn't otherwise comment. They'd some catching up to do and she seemed on edge lately. It was best to let her take her time explaining things, if she felt inclined.

The two sat in companionable semi-silence for a while, the soft clink of glasses, the soft susurrus of mixed conversations, and the arrival of more after-work folks tumbling through the Floo like a balm to Hermione's battered nerves. After a second shot of Firewhiskey she switched to plain water. It wouldn't do to be sloshed before she got home.

She reached across the table and grabbed Harry's hand, squeezing it once and gracing him with her beautiful smile. He returned it and squeezed back, running his thumb casually over the top of her own smaller one.

"You're alright now, yeah?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, keeping hold of his hand. She blushed and broke eye contact, studying the various cracks in the table. Knowing he'd want an explanation sooner or later, she decided to get right to the point.

"It's not what you think," she said in a near whisper. Harry leaned in closer to catch her low tones.

"Who's judging? I'm just curious, is all. It's your life, 'Mione. You can sleep with whoever you want. I'm just worried you'll get hurt. Snape's not the nicest wizard around."

He wasn't shocked by the vehemence of her reply, but winced nonetheless. She had a quick temper, and he'd been on the receiving end of her wand on more than one occasion.

"Don't you think I know that?" she seethed, pulling her hand away, nostrils flaring. "I know that! I had no choice!" Her hand clapped over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that much.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together to compliment his deep frown. "What do you mean, you had no choice? Did Snape do something to force you?"

"No! It wasn't like that!" she tried to amend, but Harry was already clenching his fists into tight balls on the weathered tabletop. "I'll kill him if he's hurt you."

"Don't say things like that! I'm trying to explain, but I can't tell you everything. You have to trust me!"

Harry studied his friend. This Hermione was definitely someone that had grown in a different direction from him. In a way, it was his own fault for not returning her owls, turning her down when she asked him out for a drink, but that hadn't happened in a long while. More recently, she'd been the one to turn down his and Ginny's offers to socialize. It had been a two-way street, he supposed, and there was nothing to be done but start at the beginning again.

Gently, he unclenched his fists and laid them flat, the dampness from his pint glass sweating onto the side of his palm where it rested against his left hand.

"Okay, I'm sorry I lost my temper. I just can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you."

Hermione ran one hand through her bushy tangles. God her hair was a mess after work. She needed to charm it up but was too tired at the moment.

"I know, Harry. It's just….. complicated."

"I gathered that," he nodded, motioning the bartender for another pint.

"I'm not with Professor Snape in the conventional sense. That is- we're not a couple," she began carefully, nervously running her fingers around the rim of her empty shot glass.

Harry waited, observing the simple break in her thoughts as she collected where she was going with them.

Hermione's mind wandered back to the encounter. Her indignation and fury when Snape had announced what he wanted from her had been monumental. How the professor had humiliated her in front of everyone had been criminal. The way he had made her come so wantonly against a tree mere yards from the party, so darkly divine… Her face flushed a bright pink.

"He's a pig, and it's not going to happen again," she said with finality, nodding once to emphasize her point.

"People are going to talk-" Harry began, but she cut him off.

"So what? What do I care what most of the pure and half-blood hypocrites of the wizarding world have to say? It's not as if it has any real bearing on my life or my happiness!"

Harry wanted to protest that she had just lumped him in with 'the rest', but figured it was a moot point. Instead he asked her, "And are you happy? I mean, really?"

His brilliant green eyes seemed to pierce into her soul and Hermione couldn't help but bite back the traitorous truth that wanted to spring from her lips. No. She had to shore up her resolve. Not even Harry could know she was shagging Arthur. As accepting as he'd been of her one-time tryst with Snape, there was no telling how he'd react to her ongoing affair with Ron's father.

She leveled her most even stare, matching his intensity before shrugging her shoulders. "Sometimes, like now, when I'm with a brilliant friend like you, Harry. These times, I'm happy."

"I wish you'd smile more, 'Mione. You're very pretty when you smile."

They both laughed at each other and broke the sappy moment by reaching for a hug across the table, Harry slopping a little of his drink on it.

He held her tight and whispered into her ear. "I'll always be here for you. Me and Gin; we'll never turn our backs on you, no matter what's going on in your life. If you need me, I'm just an Owl away. I love you 'Mione. I always will."

"I love you too, Harry. Take care of Ginny and the kids. Give her a big hug for me, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Hermione stood and pulled away, their fingers held together until the very last moment before they separated. Hermione Floo'd home and soaked away her cares in a tub full of fragrant bubbles and charmed bath salts that created a spa effect, soothing her muscles and cares away before curling up with a good book and another double finger of Firewhiskey.

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The Rag 'n' Bull! Your only reliable news source for the discriminating witch or wizard!

Love at last?

It seems too good to be true, but over a dozen witnesses caught Hogwarts most ill-reputed Potions master, Severus Snape, in flagrante with the indubitable Hermione Granger, heroine, receiver of an Order of Merlin First Class and Ministry worker under the esteemed Arthur Weasley, head of the department of the Care of Magical Creatures.

It's long been a source of speculation whether Severus Snape was a bachelor by choice or if he, indeed, batted for the other team. Spurning the affections of hero-seekers everywhere, the dark wizard has publicly been seen berating any woman that crossed his path with the intent to woo the untouchable man. Having been assumed this intensely private man would never be seen with a lover, imagine this reporter's surprise at having secured a first-hand, eyewitness report from a person close to the source.

The witch in question, for privacy purposes, spoke on condition of anonymity.

"It was disgraceful. You should have seen the way she crawled out of the bushes like a common Knockturn Alley whore. Her dress was torn, hair mussed; why, it looked like she'd rolled in the mud with more than one wizard. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if she had. I heard she cheated on Ron Weasley, which is why he broke it off with her. Oh yes, quite the tart, that one. All brainy and innocent on the outside, but once you get to know her she's got a mean temper. She'll hex you as soon as kiss your husband. Then out pops Severus Snape, calm as you please. And wouldn't you know he actually smiled? Then zipped up his pants, he looked right at the little minx with her paws wrapped around Arthur Weasley, her boss no less! Does the woman have no shame? She's a disgrace to the Ministry! I'm surprised she hasn't been sacked!"

This same sentiment was repeated by more than a few other eyewitnesses and many second-hand accounts from trustworthy friends who had told them of the torrid affair.

"I heard she's been shagging him for years," said one witch, rolling her eyes toward the sky.

"A little birdie told me there's some sort of dark magic going on between the pair," whispered another.

Rumors abound, and there are sure to be more juicy details as this illicit romance develops. Make sure to subscribe.

If you miss an issue, you miss a lot!

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An owl fluttered against Hermione's window the morning after her little chat with Harry. She was just about to leave for work, but quickly backtracked and flung it open to see what was so urgent. With a gasp she was thrown back as several dozen owls swooped into her tiny flat, crowding her to the ground as they dropped their missives and bumped against each other frantically to get back out the window.

"Shoo! Scat! Get away!"

She batted and smacked at the confused owls until the last of them was herded from her flat. With a massive sigh she closed the window tight, frowning darkly when two more owls promptly tapped on her closed window.

"This is ridiculous! I have to be getting to work!" she complained, stooping to the floor to pick up a couple of the dropped letters. There wasn't one among them she recognized, all addressed to her in different script. Curious, she opened one and gasped, outraged at its content. She opened another, then another, all scathing and horrid, slanderous dressing downs put to parchment. Assuming they were all the same, she conjured a roaring blaze in her hearth and ushered them all into it except the few she held, now ignoring the gathering horde of birds outside her window.

With a determined stride she Floo'ed into work, her small feet taking her straight to her boss's office.

Hermione flung the door open hard, allowing it to bang effectively against the wall opposite. Arthur was on his feet and around his desk in an instant.

"Hermione- what-"

"Don't you 'Hermione' me, Arthur Weasley! You know damn well why I'm about to hex your bits into so many pieces not even St. Mungo's will be able to put them back together again!"

"Wait, Hermione- I think you should calm down." He managed to get three steps closer before the enraged witch had thrust her wand under his nose.

"How dare you tell me to calm down after everything that's happened. This is all your fault!"

Arthur held up his hands in supplication, clearly confused. "Hermione, I have no idea what you're referring to. Perhaps if you told me what I'm to blame for, we could make some sense of this."

Irate, Hermione thrust the horrid parchments under his nose where he grabbed the fistful and read through them, silent, her wand still pressed into his chest. He didn't seem surprised.

"You think I'm to blame for this? Why would this be my fault?"

"Because YOU were the first one there! You are the only person who would have a reason to hurt me this way! Tell me. Which paper was it published in? The Prophet? Some other scandalous bit of rag? How much did they pay you?"

"I had nothing to do with this! I swear! In fact, I was just discussing this-"

"With me," intoned the dulcet tones of Lucius Malfoy, rising from one of the pretentious wingback chairs in front of Arthur's desk, which Hermione had failed to notice upon her blind entry into her boss's office.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she gaped, dumbstruck. If Lucius knew about her affair with Arthur, they were both in a whole world of shit.

Trying to seem discrete, Hermione tucked her wand back into place and turned her back slightly to the advancing man, mouthing to Arthur, 'Does he know?'

Arthur shook his head imperceptibly; afraid Lucius might have caught onto some of her comments that he was the only person with reason to hurt her.

The subtle exchange was not lost on Lucius, but for now he pretended to remain ignorant of the curious exchange.

"Miss Granger, I was just discussing this abominable article with your employer. This is an outrage. I won't stand for this type of slander to be perpetuated about Ministry officials or its employs."

Lucius played an informal, but powerful role in maintaining positive PR for the Ministry. It rankled him to have to make the imposter Minister Malfoy look good, but it kept him close to the pulse of government, right where he wanted to be.

Hermione didn't know what to think at this point. On the one hand, she was still seething, inwardly blaming her lover for seeking revenge on her for leaking the sordid incident to some raunchy magazine. On the other, he certainly wouldn't be here talking to the senior Malfoy about it if that were true. He truly looked as confused as she.

"You were?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Shall we all have a seat?"

Hermione nodded dumbly, chastened by his impeccable manners and unexpected presence in the office. What the hell had they been saying about it anyway? She was almost afraid to find out, but still a bit relieved she hadn't said too much already.

After taking their seats, Lucius quirked one eyebrow at the subdued witch. "Are you going to tell me why you raised your wand to your boss, or am I going to have to report this to the Auror division?" he inquired smoothly.

Hermione fidgeted with her hair, chewing on one of the long ends. She honestly had no idea what to say. This wasn't part of her morning plan, to have to explain herself to Lucius Malfoy. Thankfully, Arthur cut in just as the silence was getting awkward.

"If you'll excuse me Lucius, I think I can explain for Hermione, as uncomfortable as this may be."

Lucius nodded once. "Do tell."

Sitting back comfortably, Arthur pushed the offending article at Hermione, who had yet to see it at all. He carried on as she snatched it from his polished desk, reading voraciously, her jaw dropping as he continued to address the blond aristocrat.

"I must have your word this shall go no further than this office, Mr. Malfoy."

Intrigued, Lucius leaned forward on his cane. "Indeed? Well, that depends on what the nature of the information is. I cannot, in good faith, let anything that will harm others or the image of this government go by unchecked."

"It's not that sort of information. It's of a personal nature and has no bearing on the situation other than Miss Granger's reaction to me."

"I see. In that case, you have my conditional word that barring anything overtly harmful; I will not reveal what you say to me, anything of a strictly personal nature involving either you or Miss Granger."

The oath took hold and the men shook on it.

Hermione almost fainted when the increasingly alarming conversation got her attention over the end of the article and her dumbstruck reaction to it. Trying hard to swallow through the cotton balls that had suddenly found their way into her throat, she shifted nervously in her chair. What in Merlin's name was Arthur going to say?

Arthur shot her a warning glance and opened his mouth. "Hermione has a severe sexual addiction."

Incredibly, Lucius managed to keep a straight face in light of this titillating bit of information. He filed it away for later.

"And this is relevant to the situation in what manner?" he inquired, rolling one finger in a circle to help Arthur get to the point.

"She confided in me a few months back about her problem. She felt it was interfering with her work focus, so I've been paying for her to see a private therapist out of my own pocket. At one point she was doing rather well, but lately she seems to have been skipping her appointments and disappearing after work. It being after hours, I had no say as to her personal business, but as her friend I was concerned for her well-being. After the little incident at my home the other evening, I believe Hermione feels I'm to blame for slipping the information to the press. The first thing her addiction does is drive her to blame others for problems that result from it. Naturally, having been seeing to her well-being from the beginning, you can understand it was only natural for her to want to lash out at someone safe who knew of her situation."

Lucius was nodding as if they were discussing a new employee contract or some other mundane Ministry business. He ran his thumb over and over the head of the silver snake-head cane, so badly wanting to test the little deviant sitting next to him but knowing full well not to tip his hand until the right moment.

"There is still the matter of her raising her wand to a senior Ministry official."

Arthur shrugged. "You can report her, but then there would be questions to answer. As the person instigating the report, even under Veritaserum you wouldn't be able to fully disclose the nature of her intent. I don't think it'd be wise to further fan the flames. It appears enough damage has been done with this horrid gossip rag printing lies about her and the Professor."

"But are they lies?" Lucius asked, turning to Hermione. He already knew the truth, or what Snape's version of it was, anyway. The man had no shame in bragging of taking the Gryffindor Princess down a couple of pegs at a Weasley function, no less. What Lucius couldn't discern was how he had managed to get her to agree to such an illicit liaison. Arthur's story about a sexual addiction helped some of the puzzle pieces fit together, and served to lend credence to Severus' story, but there were a few things that didn't add up. The brightest witch of her age could have shagged practically anyone, if all she'd wanted was a quick fuck to scratch an itch, as it were. Why would she pick Snape?

Hermione bit her lip and looked away, shaking her head. She couldn't believe Arthur had put her in this position, but she wasn't in one of her own to argue with him. Her own lack of foresight had landed them in the dung pile, so now she had to try and dig their way out of it somehow.

She was visibly trembling and looked like she was about to cry.

Lucius slid from his chair onto one knee beside the upset girl, leaning his cane against the desk and taking one of her hands in both of his much larger pale ones.

"Hermione, look at me."

Sniffing, the young witch did so, warily, but met his gaze, raising her chin a little in the process.

"I have connections. I promise you I won't breathe a word of this to anyone, but I need your cooperation. The fact that Arthur's name was mentioned in the paper warrants an investigation into exactly who leaked this incident to that trashy gossip rag, and more importantly, the witch or wizard that allowed it to be published is going to have to pay, and be forced to retract it publicly."

"But that damage is already done, Mr. Malfoy. I may as well hand in my resignation right now."

"That won't be necessary. I have a way to keep this from getting out of control but I need to speak with you further in private. Will you trust me to handle this?"

He brought one finger to lift her chin just a little, running his thumb over the smooth skin of her lower lip.

Feeling as if she had an ally in Lucius Malfoy, Hermione acceded to his request to speak with him privately and thanked Arthur for helping her as well. Another privately shared glance promised they'd talk when it could be arranged.

Lucius took his leave of Arthur Weasley and shut the door to the man's office, gesturing for Hermione to walk before him down the gallant halls of the Ministry's Care of Magical Creatures division before turning down another set of corridors that lead to his private office.

He smirked inwardly. The old Slytherins' plan was set into motion, and if he had his way, he'd not only have the ripe little witch stuck on the end of his cock before it was all through, but he'd also have paid back an old vendetta to a traitorous fool, as well as secured himself the position of Minister of Magic. Hermione would never know he'd been the one to commission the article, and he could discretely make up some reason to have Arthur canned, relegated back to the rubbish heap he called a home. Things were looking up for the Malfoy family and he intended to keep it that way.


	9. Chapter 9 A Woman Deceived

Hermione followed Lucius to his plush office in a separate wing of the Ministry. As with the rest of the place, his office was extremely overdone in expensive carpets, an oversized, antique oak desk shipped from America and ostentatious wingback chairs that could hold the likes of Hagrid. Hermione thought it was all a huge waste and she wrinkled her nose in apparent distaste. Of course Malfoy would have to outdo everyone else with the solid gold statue of Salazar Slytherin especially commissioned in an alcove by his bay window overlooking the inner Ministry courtyard.

The look was not lost on Lucius. He knew the young witch had championed many a lost cause in her youth and was not about to overlook that fact.

"Please, do sit down, Miss Granger."

She absentmindedly sat in one of the massive chairs, feeling very much like a first year at some overbearing political function. In other words, way in over her head.

Lucius sat across from her and studied the young woman. She had certainly grown into herself and seemed to have a fair bit of resolve about the mouth. Gone was the innocent, wide-eyed and shining brashness of youth. He recognized that she'd been tempered in some difficult ways and appreciated how that probably shaped her sharpened attitude.

Lucius made it a habit to simply sit and observe Ministry employees brought into his office. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. People, in general, did not like long, awkward silences and generally felt obligated to fill it with meaningless prattle. He maintained a subtle stare, not directly boring a hole into the young witch, but keeping her noticeably in his line of sight. As expected, she was thoroughly inspecting the contents of his office with the unsubtle overtures of classic Gryffindor forthrightness. He'd expected nothing less.

The minutes ticked away and Hermione did not seem at all perturbed by this tactic. Lucius filed her non-reaction away into the recess of his mind marked, "Granger".

Lucius enjoyed a challenge. It was going to be very interesting to see how well this witch had learned to maneuver politically while in Ministry employ. He assumed not very well; after all, she had volunteered for the field work. Thus, he presumed she really preferred staying out of the arena that was the Malfoy specialty.

"Ms. Granger," he began. If he'd hoped to startle her, a tiny bit of him was disappointed. She merely turned her gaze from the window and looked at him expectantly, prim hands folded neatly in her lap, both legs together and parallel to the floor, feet flat. How very proper she was in his presence. Lucius had a sudden urge to bend her over his desk just to see how very improper she could be under his thrusting cock.

With a polite smile he offered her tea. Hermione shook her head, a small tic jumping to the corner of her mouth in annoyance.

"Mr. Malfoy, can you please get to the point? I've got quite a lot to do after our meeting."

Damn. So she didn't want to play his game? Very well, he would give her what she asked for. With a smirk he rose smoothly from his desk and leaned forward. The fabric of her chest jumped with her intake of breath when he moved suddenly. Ah, so she was affected by a closer proximity. Another point for Malfoy. His icy grey orbs turned hard like newly cut diamond points under a magnifying glass, flashing their potent fire under slightly lowered lids that cut straight to Hermione's heart. The young witch struggled to maintain her firm poise, but Lucius was not fooled and easily saw the slight tremble of her hands that were clasped tightly together, her nails digging unconsciously into her own flesh.

Lucius rapped his knuckles on the desk, a predatory look in his eyes. Now that they were out of hearing range of Arthur Weasley's office, he had no qualms about speaking candidly with the sexually addicted, lovely young witch.

"I have knowledge of your affairs, little girl," he said softly, the low tone of his silvery voice so full of promise and menace the effect was instantaneous.

A flash of guilt betrayed Hermione's visage before she quickly occluded it with a small smirk and shrug of her shoulders. "Mr. Malfoy, I rather think that's common knowledge at this point."

Damn. She wasn't going to make this easy. He had his suspicions, but yet…..

He tried another tactic. "This information is very sensitive and will have severe consequences for you, young lady. If you are unwilling to tell me the whole story I will be forced to report my findings to the Auror division and the Minister himself." Lucius was taking a gamble but as he rolled the dice, praying it would pay off, the Slytherin kept his composure hidden behind a mask of smug indifference.

Hermione fidgeted, no longer able to keep her hands to herself. Wiping her hands on her clothing to rid them of the sweat, she bit her lower lip as tears began to pool there. Lucius had promised her job wouldn't be at risk and now he was turning it around on her. She couldn't, wouldn't betray Arthur. If he knew about it, than he would probably take that information and run with it regardless of her confession. He'd have to drag her kicking and screaming before the Minister and force Veritaserum down her throat before she'd admit to him she'd screwed a married man and was hopelessly in love with him. There was also a chance he was bluffing. Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew how to play the game, even if she wasn't as good at it as he.

"Sir, you ensured me that my job was safe. I've done nothing illegal!"

"Miss Granger I'm quickly losing patience with you. Do you wish me to spell it out for you?" His hand banged down on the desk, making the implements set about its surface jump from the impact. Leaning forward even more, his long blond hair escaped the loosely tied leather band at the back and framed his face in a halo that made him seem like a terrible deliverer come to smite her down.

"It is against wizarding law to aid and abet a criminal that is under investigation for bribing a government official with illegal narcotics! You will be subject to twenty years in Azkaban for even contemplating lying to me!" he roared, his face contorting into a mask of rage that could have counted as a double for a life-like Death Eater mask.

Hermione quailed in her chair, thoroughly confused by the about-face Malfoy had pulled since her initial visit with him and Arthur just a short time ago. She'd expected him to come out with something of her affair with Arthur, not some nonsense to do with illegal activities she knew nothing about. Still, he was a very imposing man and she had no idea if he was angry to the point of striking her or simply sending her away.

Hermione had her wand out in an instant and pushed it flush into the enraged wizard's throat, very slowly standing from her curled position on the chair, the point of her wand forcing Lucius' chin upwards and back across his desk, his cold grey eyes regarding her carefully as the rage slid off his face like so much slush off a slanted roof.

The young witch was quick to pull her wits into some semblance of order as she chose her words carefully. "Mr. Malfoy, I assure you I have no idea what you are inferring. I have never knowingly aided or abetted anyone that has been involved in such a heinous crime. I assure you, if I had knowledge of such events, I would not hesitate to report them to the proper authorities at once. Surely you have more faith in my integrity than to cast such wild assumptions. And why wouldn't you have gone to the Auror department before confronting me? What's in it for you, that'd you'd corner me, threaten me and risk dismissal yourself for such an atrocious display of arrogance towards a fellow Ministry employee?"

Shite, but the witch was good. She could have been a very good solicitor, for the holes she had punched in his farce of a strong-arm tactic. The chit had every right to have her wand at his throat as well. Slytherin cunning aside, he had no choice but to be blunt with her if he were to make any headway on his plan. There were still a few other aces up his sleeve. A Malfoy never proceeded without more than one backup plan of action.

"Will you please remove your wand from my person, Miss Granger?" he asked very politely, making a general sweeping motion with his hands down at his sides.

"Are you going to come at me again like a maniac?" she countered, still on guard.

Lucius grunted and frowned when that didn't suffice to get her to back off. "No, I will not come at you again. My apologies for losing my temper. I was out of line."

Seemingly satisfied, Hermione holstered her wand at sat back down, but she now perched only on the very edge, muscles relaxed but poised should the need arise. Instinctively, she knew the room was silenced and warded. She wasn't so naïve as to think Malfoy would threaten her if someone could just walk in on them; but he had another thing coming if she thought he'd let him cow her with a few overt, empty threats. At least, she thought they were empty. One never truly knew with Lucius Malfoy or Severus Snape.

Lucius knew he had miscalculated with this spry little tart. He was going to have to try harder and be craftier to get her onto his cock anytime soon.

This time he also sat on the edge of his chair but kept his hands folded together slightly, fingertips barely touching his chin as he re-evaluated his position before beginning again.

He smiled and her eyes narrowed in response. "You have passed my little test, Miss Granger. I had to be sure you were on our side."

This caused Hermione's eyebrows to rise. Clearly, he was keeping her off guard. Perfect.

His hands spread out to his sides in a magnanimous gesture. "I needed to be sure I could trust you before confiding such intimate information to your person."

The way Lucius layered the words with thick honey over poison both groomed and repulsed Hermione much the way Snape's little blackmail scheme had. She wondered what in hell Malfoy's game was.

"I have reason to believe that Severus Snape is providing mind altering potions to that imbecile of a Minister in exchange for potions licenses disguised as legitimate documents but filed quickly to hide the true nature of their intent."

Lucius rose from his chair and began to pace behind his desk, hands now clasped behind his expensive robes.

"He has amassed quite a fortune, Miss Granger, and not one that is easily put aside on a mere teacher's salary." Lucius paused to allow Hermione to speak. He could see the words practically bursting from that luscious little mouth of hers.

"Who else is involved with the investigation?" she countered.

"You and I are the only ones who are aware of this little venture, aside from the guilty parties, of course."

Hermione leapt from her chair, gripping the edge of his desk in her excitement and justifiable anger. "You told me the Auror department was involved!" she accused.

He raised one eyebrow in amusement at her little outburst. "I said no such thing."

"You implied that-"

"Ah yes, I did, didn't I. Well, that was all part of the little white lie I concocted to ascertain if you were a part of their scheming."

Hermione was fuming but considered his point of logic.

"What is keeping you from taking this to the Auror department then, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Think, witch! What is it that I do not have yet?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and cocked her head. "Proof. You don't have the proof you need, and if you brought this to the attention of the Auror department without it, you could lose your standing and possibly your position with such far-reaching allegations against a popular Minister for Magic and a formidable Dark wizard."

Lucius clapped his large hands together slowly in a mock applaud to her deductions. Hermione ignored it and carried on. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

The tall Slytherin moved like a bolt of lightning and was around the desk, pinning her to the edge with his solid frame. His fingers rested heavily on top of her own, playing with them while his head dipped into her hair, voice sliding as honey butter into her ear.

"You have everything to do with this, my dear. You see, I despise the cowardly little fuck that dared to drag the Malfoy name through the gutter like the pompous little rent boy he is. I want this Minister for Magic out of office and exposed for the fraud he is. You are going to help me get evidence I need to bring him down once and for all. With the right type of information, you will have your revenge on Severus, and I shall have mine when the phony is out of office. To sweeten the deal, I can ensure that no more articles appear in the papers smearing your good name."

Hermione was vaguely hearing Lucius' voice caressing her ear with its drawling cadence, slithering past her well-constructed defenses and rendering her as potter's clay on his wheel. Her knees trembled and she knew that if he hadn't of been holding her up partially with his firm body and his desk as the other support, she'd have collapsed on the floor in a puddle at his feet. The blood roared in her ears and where their skin touched, an electric tingle travelled through her fingers, up her arms and spread into her belly and cunt like wildfire. The man exuded sex and money like some people sweated on a hot summer day. His rich cologne nearly knocked her off of her feet. Hermione wasn't sure she fully understood what was going on, but she sure as hell knew that if she didn't put some distance between their bodies, there would be a puddle of a different kind at her feet from what he was doing to her.

Lucius took a very audible breath in, inhaling her scent, as headily potent as the air he breathed. Very slowly, his cock was rising to the occasion, despite his attempts to control its upwards journey. The witch did things to his body and mind that no other woman had since Narcissa in his youth. All of his conquests over the years, both in wizarding society and under the reign of the Dark Lord, had been nothing more to him than sheer physical release. Hermione evoked a _need_ in him to possess her fully. It shook his masculine foundation as the realization hit him bludger-style.

"Hermione, did you hear my proposal?" Lucius spoke softly into her other ear, the very tip of his tongue reaching out to taste the lobe. The little witch shuddered perceptibly and moaned just slightly loud enough for him to hear.

"Hmmmmm?" she answered dreamily.

Lucius peeked at her face and saw that her eyes were at half-mast, lips slightly parted and panting softly. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, breasts rising and falling in a way that made him want to rip her clothes off of her body and fuck her into the desk, putting his bruising marks and hot, pulsing seed into her body so every time she moved she would remember his possession of her. He pressed his manhood against her back and the witch stiffened beneath him.

Her eyes opened and she suddenly ducked under his arm and scuttled a good six feet away from him. Crossing her arms over her chest in a show of preserving her modesty, Hermione shakily put herself back together and tried to sound as if he'd had no effect on her, and failed.

"Mr. Malfoy, I've no need to seek revenge against Professor Snape when the encounter was a consensual experience. I've no reason to help you with your scheme and every reason to report what you've told me to the proper authorities so they can investigate according to protocol."

Lucius laughed long and hard. His rich tone rang throughout his warded office, thoroughly catching Hermione off guard once more. His reaction puzzled and frightened her.

"The proper authorities, my arse," he gasped through the back of his hand, still trying to hide a smile that simply wouldn't be banished from his lips. "I take it you've even less of an idea of how this Ministry is being run than anyone in the entire building."

Hermione had nothing to say so she waited for him to continue.

He obliged after letting the tail end of his chuckles die a natural death. "The head of the Auror department is in that fairy boy's back pocket. They are lovers, my dear. If you'd have known anything about this institution whatsoever you would have called me on my initial observations of accusation. Clearly, you spend more time afield hiding in your own sexual depravity than keeping up on the latest Ministry gossip."

"I have no use for idle prattle, Sir," she retorted disdainfully. Honestly, as if it would enhance her life at all.

"Oh, but at times gossip can be most enlightening, as are my little fireside chats with my good friend the Potions master of Hogwarts," he revealed most smugly, at last laying the final cards on the proverbial table. Oh, how he loved drawing out the hunt!

"But I thought-"

"That is the problem, my dear. You think entirely too much about all of the wrong things. Here is how this is going to work." Again he moved in and forced her to walk backwards as he spoke. She reached for her wand but his reflex was ready for her to move and his hands gripped both of her wrists painfully, holding them above her head once they reached the wall.

"Severus has told me about the little pity fuck he granted you. What I cannot figure out, and that which he wouldn't reveal to me, was what he held over your head to get you to fuck him. Ah, ah, ah, Miss Granger, don't try to deny it," he added as she opened her mouth with a retort. She closed it again when he dipped his head towards her, his lips mere millimeters from her own.

"I know when you are lying to me, _Hermione,_" he emphasized once more. "You are going to get me the evidence I need to take down the Minister, and in turn Severus' potions license will be revoked when the scandal is broken. You will have your revenge, and I shall have mine."

"But what if-"

"-He exposes your little secret, hmmmm?" he interrupted again, seeming to read her mind. It was uncanny how he knew what she was going to say.

"I have already taken a wand oath not to reveal what a facetious little slut you've become. You let me deal with that little problem. I will ensure Severus keeps his traitorous mouth shut. I have a feeling there is more between you and Severus than you're letting on, but I'm willing to let it slide if you provide me with a little extra insurance."

"Which is?" she asked nervously, her voice cracking. Hermione was simply grateful that Arthur had provided a reason to Lucius that he believed to be what Snape was holding over her head in return for sexual favors, at least in part. He suspected more, yet for some reason, wasn't going to pry it from her if she met his demands.

Lucius allowed his eyes to roam lecherously over the full scope of her body. In that moment, Hermione knew what he would ask for.

"I ask for nothing more than a taste of that delectable body from time to time. It'll be our little secret." He moved in for the kill and captured her lips with his own. The defiant little witch bit down on his tongue when he sought entrance into her mouth.

Lucius roared his pain and stretched her arms higher up the wall as she gasped and shrieked when her shoulders were very nearly pulled from their sockets. He bit her lower lip in retaliation and drew blood. Their copper essence filled their mouths, his eyes glittering as he moved back in and forced her jaw open with one of his hands. His tongue filled her mouth and mixed their blood. Unknowingly, Hermione had ignited the beast within the man. He couldn't have stopped at that point if he'd wanted to.

"Say you will do it, or I will destroy you, witch. Obey me, help me, and I shall give you such pleasure as you've never felt in your lifetime," he rasped into her mouth, their combined blood dripping down and staining the front of her blouse and his fine robes.

"I, I can't!" she sobbed into his mouth and he simply devoured her mouth even more voraciously, seeking to force her into submission.

"Then every paper in the country will carry news of your depravity on the morrow, and when I've the evidence, I will implicate you along with that fool and Severus to rot in Azkaban for all of your days."

Hermione had no idea why the likes of Lucius Malfoy would want her for anything to do with his own sexual exploits, but it was evident he was hell bent on having her at any cost.

She continued to sob as her forehead rested against his, her arms aching, lip stinging and self-esteem fluttering in tatters to oblivion. His eyes darkened with arousal and his breathy pants came hot and fast. Hermione nodded and he growled triumphantly as he led her roughly back to his desk and bent her over it.

The first thing to go was her shirt. Hermione felt the tip of his wand slice through the back of it with an almost surgical precision that gave her a cold shiver. It was clear to her that this was a technique Malfoy had perfected over the years. She didn't even want to contemplate what manner of evil goings-on had precipitated his flawless technique. The rest of her clothing followed in quick succession, his smooth, callous free hand following the path of his wand in reverent homage to her smooth skin. His touch was light, like a dancer in a ballet over her body. Her chin was pressed down to her chest, eyes shut tight to block out the horrible act about to be inflicted upon her once more. It was bad enough Snape had forced her into hell. Malfoy didn't even know the true reason for his blackmail. Hermione could only pray that he would hold to his end of the bargain and make Snape back off. He had called Snape a traitor! If he didn't hold up to his word, well, she didn't want to think about being sexually beholden to both of them! It was bad enough to have either one hold her hostage via pussy.

Hermione heard the distinct rustle of fabric and a loud groan behind her. Lucius' hands pushed her firmly, but surprisingly gently down until her front was flush with the desk. The wood felt warm and comforting in contrast to the silky titan of an erection that now was sliding over the cleft of her bum. It was even larger than Snape's, she ascertained, without having to even look at the damn thing.

Lucius braced himself on the desk beside her as he lined up his cock with her vaginal opening. He hunched over her back and rubbed the head of his swollen dick between her pussy lips, eliciting unwanted lubrication from her very depths.

"So responsive, pet. Even under duress you are a wanton little slut, aren't you, Hermione," he intoned quietly, seductively into her ear. Continuing to stroke himself along her folds, he bent slightly to kiss and nip at her shoulder, along the back of her neck, spitting a little as hair got in his way. A murmur spelled it into a tight French braid on her head.

"Give me your cream, Hermione. I want you to show me how good I make you feel. You're going to come on my cock and scream my name to the heavens, witch."

With a growl and snap of his hips Lucius thrust balls deep inside of her tight, slick cunt.

"Oh, dear fuck yes!" he grated out as he wrapped his arms around her chest and held onto her tits for leverage, immediately pistoning wildly in and out of her at breakneck speed.

"So-fucking-tight-dear-god!" Lucius barked as he continued to pound against her pert arse and cunt.

Hermione was biting her torn and abused lower lip so hard to keep from crying out. He felt both wonderful and terrible at the same time. She knew that when it was all over and her shame bit her from behind, nothing was going to stop her from getting shite-faced drunk to drown away the nightmare of her reality.

Lucius cried out suddenly and was coming inside of her, hips locked tight to her backside as his body shuddered and heaved, grinding her against the edge of the desk roughly, moaning into her ear interspersed with inarticulate mutterings.

Hermione let go of her lip and breathed out a tremendous sigh at the quick completion. She was so relieved she was going to be able to leave his presence that her world almost collapsed when he began moving once more, still rock hard and demanding in his cadence.

"What- what are you doing?" she cried, turning her head in her haste to object to this repulsive, if erotic, intrusion and possession of her sex.

"I'm fucking you, my dear. You didn't think I was going to let you go after only one climax, did you?" Lucius was thrusting a little slower this time around, hands rhythmically squeezing, rolling and pinching her breasts, his lips never ceasing their exploration of her neck, back and shoulders.

Hermione bit back a sob as his tongue, teeth and lips transmitted magical sensations straight to her clit and cunt. It was as if he were weaving a spell on her as the web of seduction grew tighter around her. The invasion of his glorious, hated cock was stroking her into delirious oblivion against her will. With every ounce of will she fought to think about the most horrific, disgusting things she could imagine. Each one was knocked down as the tornado that was Lucius Malfoy bowled her over and twisted her into his personal, depraved fuck toy.

An intense keening filled the air and Lucius sneered against her back, his hips cast at just the right angle that had caused this new sound coming from the lithe, curvy witch. She was now bucking backwards into his groin, chanting something he strained to catch even as he forced her mouth to the side and swept his tongue inside.

He swallowed her scream when her body tightened, cunt squeezing him so fucking tight he felt for a moment as if his dick were being severed at the root. With great effort he fucked through it, concentration pushed to the limit with the force of will needed to penetrate her depths through the vise. A sudden gush of warmth bathed his groin with cream of witch and once more her incredible body stole his composure, ripping the come from his sac so forcefully he very nearly blacked out. Jet after jet of thick, heavy come filled her writhing insides, bathing her cervix in a river of his seed. Normally, Lucius was able to come three times in succession without slowing for a break but the intensity of his second orgasm robbed him of virility. As he came down from the intense high, his cock slipped out of her cunt like a kicked puppy.

He backed away from her, admiring the view of her bent over, come and cream dripping shamelessly down her inner thighs, pink lips swollen and peeking at him from between her legs. Lucius shook his head to clear it. Clearly, he had once again underestimated her effect on him. The witch was going to take a finer approach and more time than he had right that moment to handle her properly.

Hermione stood up and felt the self-revulsion wash over her once more. What had started as a lustful obsession with her boss had turned into a nightmare of lies and deceit. All she knew was that she had to get out of there as soon as possible. Without turning to look at Malfoy, Hermione reached for her wand and quickly cleaned herself, repairing her decimated clothing to a presentable state.

Lucius couldn't get his heart to slow down from a racehorse gallop. It was still beating madly in his chest as he watched Hermione clean and dress herself. An emotion that was long forgotten reared its ugly head and he forcefully tried to quell it with self-control, but it stubbornly refused to budge. Ignoring it for the time being, he smirked when she turned to give him a cold glare that fell short of its intent by a full mile.

"When will you take care of Snape?"

"One mustn't rush these sorts of things, my dear."

Hermione scowled and stalked towards the door, no longer able to stand the sight of him. "I don't intend to let this drag out any longer than is absolutely necessary, Mr. Malfoy. I'll have your evidence by the end of two weeks' time. If you haven't taken care of Snape, you won't get your evidence. Do we have a deal?"

"You're not in a position to be making demands of me, are you little girl?" he threw at her scornfully, his snide tone like claws down a chalkboard over her battered emotions.

Hermione stood stock still and counted to ten before answering him, facing the exit to his office. "If you don't agree to my terms, Mr. Malfoy, I shall put everything into a Pensieve and make sure all of the wrong people get a copy of the memory. Then we'll see how fast you come to heel." She smiled to herself when she heard his outraged gasp behind her and his thundering steps as he took her from behind, throwing her to the floor in a snit.

"You will do no such thing you stupid girl! You would destroy yourself as well!"

Hermione smiled up at him sweetly. "What do I have to lose? At least I wouldn't have to let you stick your putrid cock inside of me anymore."

If looks could kill Hermione would have been dead on the spot. The look on Malfoy's face was both priceless and terrifying to behold. She imagined that if they'd had been at a revel with that same reaction to her words, the torture she'd had endured would have been about as horribly unimaginable as possible. As it was, he had her by the tits and she had him by the balls. They were both in the same boat and he was pissed because she'd turned the tables on him. Well, if he didn't know what he was messing with before, he did now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, comprehension and even resignation danced across his face and he reached down to pull her back to her feet.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Granger, but we have a deal. I reserve the right to call upon you thrice more within that time frame."

"Once."

"Twice."

"Once, and if I bring you the evidence before you do request my presence you forfeit the encounter."

"Twice, and it's a deal."

"Done."

They shook on it and a swirl of magic surrounded their clasped hands. Lucius actually smiled.

"You should have been sorted into Slytherin."

"Fuck you, Mr. Malfoy."

With a dark chuckle he unwarded the door and ushered her out with a tame goodbye just as the Minister bustled in, his face almost apoplectic with anger.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Malfoy? How dare you ward and silence your office during business hours! You know that is against Ministry policy. I should have you reprimanded for such a flagrant violation!"

Lucius looked down his nose at his bastard son. The little fuck was an abomination to the Malfoy name. If it had been up to him, the little shite would have been killed at birth, if not before. As it was, if all went as planned, he wouldn't be a thorn in his pale white arse for much longer.

"Forgive me, Minister, but I had pressing, sensitive business to conduct with Miss Granger and it wouldn't do to have passing ears accidentally picking up on information that may throw the image of this fine institution into, shall we say, a rather unfavorable light, hmmmm?"

Lucius' bastard son hemmed and hawed, clearing his throat importantly before breaking his gaze from the long stare he had been held to. With a short nod and a, "Don't let it happen again," the self-important Minister quickly hurried out of the office with a huff and swagger.

Lucius flicked the door shut with a wave of his hand and promptly retired to his desk after pouring a stiff measure of brandy.

If Granger knew how tenuous his social, political and personal standing really was, she'd have gone straight for his jugular. His next step was to pay a visit to his old friend, the Hogwarts Potions master. That little visit would require even more finesse. Severus wasn't easily fooled.

Lucius let the brandy trail a slow burn down into his gullet while he contemplated his next course of action. He knew Severus wouldn't easily give up shagging rights to Miss Granger, but he had to be convinced not to exact retribution of any kind on the witch while believing it was in his best interest to cease blackmailing her. He knew there was something underlying that stank like last week's rubbish. If he could slip the man some Veritaserum…

Yes, yes. His plan was shaping up nicely, and he might not even need Miss Granger's help to pull off the crux of his deception. If Lucius could have his cake and eat it to, it just wouldn't due to settle for anything less, now would it?


	10. Chapter 10 A Woman Lost

The Firewhiskey burned a trail of liquid satisfaction down her esophagus. Slamming the tumbler onto the aged wood, Hermione blearily motioned Tom for another drink. The concerned bartender waved his help to clear another table of leaving pub hoppers before running his rag down the length of the bar to the heavily inebriated witch.

"S'another Fireswishkey, Tom!" Hermione slurred a bit too loudly. A number of eyes darted her way, heads coming together with heavy speculation.

Tom glanced about and muttered under his breath as he pulled her tumbler off the bar, replacing it with an identical tumbler filled with a liquid that was Firewhiskey spelled to eliminate the alcohol content. It was one of his own brews to avoid overdosing patrons. Quite the moneymaker, although he usually tended to slip the money back into the drunk patron's pocket before they left or after they passed out at his establishment. It also tended to avoid legal complications for those who chose to check their brooms. He could slip a diluted Sober-Up potion into their drink with a delayed effect when they left so if an Auror pulled them over, the alcohol percentage was greatly reduced below the legal limit, although they often ended up in Ministry detox.

"What's got you drowning in the bottle, lass? I never seen ye lose yerself in the bottle." Tome surreptitiously continued his wiping journey along the end of the bar where the young witch sat, alone with her libation and thoughts for most of the night. Hermione Granger had never gotten drunk in his establishment.

"Whishards!" she announced a bit too loudly again. More eyes glanced towards her, a few people moving closer very conspicuously.

Tom swore inwardly and invoked a nifty little charmed galleon. Putting a sticking charm on it, he put the doctored bottle of Firewhiskey in front of the girl. The invoked and hidden charm cast a Muffliato charm a few feet around her to thwart the bastard eavesdroppers. Tom didn't make nearly as much money as he'd like for all the tricks he paid for to keep certain customers' privacy and humility intact, even if they had no idea he did so. After all, the man had a soft heart for the downtrodden, especially war heroes.

"Wizards, eh? Yeah, we can be a bastard lot. Always breaking a young witch's heart. You're better off without'em, girly. Take my advice and don't be drinkin' yerself to death over some stupid young lad. He ain't worth it."

A patron signaled for him and he waved the irritated wizard away, his help smoothing intercepting the cursing snitch-to-be.

Tom leaned over the bar, well used to the putrid breath of the young witch as she gushed her sorrows.

"I'm a schmart woman, you know?" she gestured dramatically, her drink spilling over the sleeve of her robes.

Tom nodded, idly spinning a clean glass around his filthy rag.

"I'm schmart, but everyone calls me a know-, know-it-, a pershon who talks too mush." Hermione threw back her tumbler in one go and promptly poured herself another. "And all I want is someone to love me. Who wants to love me? The woman with too mush hair an a brain bigger than her backside."

The barkeep didn't say anything. He just sat and listened. No one really wanted his opinion anyway, and if they asked it, he tried to keep as neutral and positive in his response as possible.

Hermione's head slumped forward exaggeratedly. This time she picked up the entire bottle and took a liberal chug. Tom flicked his fingers to disillusion the charmed galleon underneath it. Had to be quick on his feet at times!

She waved the bottle around dangerously, nearly tipping it as it clanked against the bar in her clumsiness. "Dish you know how harsh ish is ta be a woman? Men like ta hold sexsh ofer your head. I mean, ish like pushy is more important than brainsh."

Her slurring was getting worse. Tom flicked his fingers again to activate the latent, diluted Sober-Up in the bottle. This little chickie needed to Floo home and sleep it off. Knowing most customers, she probably thought she'd be fit to Apparate as well. Exactly why Tom was ahead of the game and kept designated Floo attendants honor bound to return inebriated customers to their destinations. Good help was tough to find, but in this economy he had no trouble employing wizards and witches down on their luck, even if he did have to extract varying degrees of strict confidentiality contracts from them first.

"I thinksh my pushy ishn't anything speck- speck- great. But all shorts of wishards want a piesh of it."

Oh good Lord, time to get her home.

"Ah, Miss Granger? Its closing time. Miss Delish here can escort you through the Floo to your home."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tom at his imposition but then sighed and nodded. The Sober-Up was having an effect, enough for her to realize that she was very drunk and needed to get home safely. The thinly disguised prostitute smiled warmly at the war hero and discreetly patted her on the back while Hermione continued to complain to her all the way through the Floo. Ensuring the witch was safely back at her domicile, the witch disappeared in the middle of another of Hermione's drunken monologues and back to the Leaky.

After several minutes, Hermione seemed to realize she was talking to herself and stumbled into bed fully clothed. Her sleep was dreamless, heavy and exhausted.

Hermione awoke to more owls tapping at her window. There were five vying for position of first entry. She'd removed the perch from outside to discourage them from hanging about since the newspaper article about her escapade with Snape, but she couldn't remove the ledge, so it was often crowded and sported mountains of owl shit that she had to Scourgify daily. With a huge sigh she cast a Tempus, relieved to see she hadn't overslept her alarm. The pounding in her head was enough to put her off Firewhiskey for some time. With a start, she realized she'd been rambling to Tom at great length the night before and flushed scarlet. Gods only knew what she'd gone on about, but he had seemed to be understanding of her plight as she slowly realized he'd somehow sobered her up a touch before she'd been escorted home. Shit. Another witch had had to bring her home.

The brightest witch of her age knew she had to sort through this tangle of lies and deceit before it got any worse than already was. She ignored the desperately flapping owls. Three of them held Howlers in their beaks. Uncaring to their plight, she hopped into the shower and scrubbed herself raw, unable to wash the feel of Lucius Malfoy from her person. Gods, he had felt so good and made her hate herself even more for the deceptive games she was playing! As if there was any choice at this point, if she wanted Snape off her back.

The only way to continue to keep her affair with Arthur a secret was to play the game. She had morning field training with her coworkers, then a group meeting with new trainees before she could stop by Hogwarts to visit Snape. She felt it best to stop by announced and catch him off guard, if it was even possible. Not having a plan of action wasn't too smart, but she wanted Lucius off her back as soon as possible as well.

With a flourish she finished showering, dressed and took the Floo to work. Hermione didn't get much opportunity to see Arthur during the day, which was just as well considering the heated tryst she'd been forced to share with Lucius only the day before. Her belly grew heated when she thought of the thorough plowing she'd received from the imposing wizard and was immediately chastised by her conscience. It was terrible, all of this sexual blackmail and seduction going on but she was intensely and shamefully turned on by it as well.

Her actions were almost automatic, going through the motions with the trainees and field training with two new types of magical creatures they were overseeing, plus one new endangered magical being the Ministry was supporting rehabilitation of, including their habitat and population crisis. Her job was old hat; her mind was on her forthcoming meeting with Snape.

The day drew to a close and Hermione hurriedly changed into her after-work robes, rushing past Arthur's office while he was still engaged with shift change reports and completely missing the knowing gaze of Lucius Malfoy as the young witch reached the main Floo system and disappeared into the green flames with, "Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Hermione had a standing invitation to come or go at the school's main Floo entrance or whichever professor she happened to be visiting. A few surprised students looked up when she appeared but quickly went back to their studies. There was still a good hour until supper in the Great Hall, and those gathered happened to have a free period at the end of the school day.

Hoping to avoid any staff on her way to the dungeons, Hermione scowled briefly and then plastered a smile to her face when she was accosted by Professor Flitwick.

"Hermione! Is that you? Well bless me, fancy seeing you here! What brings you back to the school? What a pleasant surprise!"

Thus, Hermione was held up over thirty minutes with the diminutive Charms professor as he went on about several new variations of charms he was working on, and would she like to have a look at them, a bit crestfallen when she declined but perking up again when she promised to return at a later date to give him her opinion on his research.

Finally able to continue about her business, the relieved witch managed to slip into the Potions classroom just as the last students were gratefully exiting for the day. The fourth year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class chattered excitedly as they rushed past her. Instead of allowing the door to fall shut, she held it open for the last exiting student after the thundering baritone of the resident Potions master finished his tongue lashing on the dismal efforts presented by the boy's efforts. Flashing the red-faced child a sympathetic look, she firmly shut the door behind her before turning to face the reason for her visit.

A stone-faced Severus Snape stood imperiously behind his desk, arms crossed and scowl firmly planted. The irritation in his stance was plain. When Hermione didn't advance further into the classroom, Snape took the initiative and unfolded his arms, descending from his perch to stalk heatedly, robes billowing, to stand uncomfortably close to the close-mouthed witch.

Now that she was there, Hermione had no idea what she was going to say to the pale, imposing wizard. All that came into her head was him forcing her in the forest, thrusting between her legs and the wrenching, mind blowing orgasms from her soaked cunt. Maybe she really was addicted to sex? Whatever the cause of her reaction, her heart was thudding loudly against her ribcage when the scent of herbs, smoke and sandalwood infiltrated her senses. Her knickers were creamed instantly.

A slow smirk slid across the Potion master's face as his eyes glittered, those black orbs penetrating her as surely as his cock had. Words would have paled in comparison to the meaning conveyed with the look he gave her.

In an instant he was upon her, wandlessly warding and silencing the classroom. Hermione opened her mouth to protest and nothing came out. He had silenced her as well. With a silent, angry shriek she pushed at him ineffectually.

Snape deftly stripped the witch, yanking hanks of fabric, popping buttons and brutally pinning her against the door to the Potions classroom. His eyes never left hers, that infuriating smirk prevalent as he slipped into her mind, allowing her to see his amusement at her outrage. With a resounding mental shout she slammed down her Occlumency shields just before he could glimpse Lucius Malfoy pummeling into her from behind.

With narrowed eyes the Professor leaned forward and whispered silkily into her ear, his voice doing divine things to her nerves, body readying itself for the inevitable intrusion.

"I can't say I am pleased with unexpected visitors to my classroom, but considering the nature of the visitor, it isn't unwelcome."

Hermione continued to fight him, chastising herself for not continuing her workouts after the war. She'd grown weak and Snape was taking advantage of it.

Snape caught her knee as it came up to knock him in the groin.

"Don't even think about it, witch!" he hissed. "You know damn well why you came to see me, so do not pretend you do not want what I gave you a piece of the other day!"

With a few deft movements his erection sprang free from his robes and he'd lifted her, impaling her onto his shaft with a sharp intake of breath.

"So tight for me, witch. I knew you would come back for more. One time I spread your whore's legs and already you're back. You're a wanton little slut, aren't you Hermione?"

She shook her head furiously as he placed his arms under her own, pulling her down into his thrust, a cushioning charm against the cold dungeon wooden door as he pressed into her sharply.

"You like my cock pounding that tight cunt, don't you, witch? Addicted to what a only a dark wizard can give you. Well, I will give you as much of this as you can handle!"

With that he attacked her with lips, tongue, teeth and cock, plunging into her tight, wet heat with wild abandon. Snape was grateful for the release as well, not hesitating to take advantage of the luscious little body wrapped around his cock. She was no match for his strength or Slytherin cunning.

Hermione's mental processes shut down as the powerfully seductive wizard took over her body with masterfully deceptive persuasion. She was helpless against him, her brains turning to mush as she realized with a start she should have had her wand handy. In her rush to leave work she'd left it in her robes pockets.

Severus Snape worked her body with a skill and precision born of a man who'd shagged many witches throughout his lifetime. The dark wizard was no stranger to carnality in its purest form and took his pleasure from whomever he could freely do so and without remorse. A crushing abhorrence from her conscience was crushed by her own lust being sated so exquisitely.

Snape felt the change in her shift from begrudging and fruitless reticence to willful, active want from the way her body was responding to his possession of it. He loved taking her to task. What a lovely, terrible thing it was to fuck the Gryffindor princess right in the very classroom he'd taught her, all those years of that annoying hand waving incessantly in the air, her nose perked up just so as she challenged his teachings and questioned his methods.

With every ounce and fiber of his being Snape laid into her, his robes slithering deliciously around them in a black cloud of rustling fabric.

Snape only stopped long enough to wrench the witch around and lay her on the table she'd brewed at for years. Irony was never lost on him as he dropped his trousers and pants to his knees, shrugging off his black teaching robes as he continued thrusting into her, grasping her thighs now and eyes narrowing at another set of fresh handprints there. So he had competition, eh? He somehow didn't think those were Arthur's handprints embedded in her flesh.

As if punishing a wayward lover he actually had a right to lay claim to, Snape possessively hunched into the tightening witch and bit at her nipples, soothing them with his tongue. His pants came loudly now, stiflingly muted without the usual echoing resonance the classroom usually provided, since his wards absorbed the sound the way his lust was absorbing her oncoming orgasm.

"Fuck, witch! Come for me! Come for your Professor you fucking slut! Come on! Come on!"

The command was driven home with punctuated, staccato slaps of flesh as his tool hit bottom and Hermione felt her insides shift, screaming herself silently hoarse as her pussy clamped down and spasmed violently around Snape's cock.

The wizard's eyes bugged out and slammed shut, his head thrown back, dark hair hanging in greasy strings, chest straining in opposition to his meat and veg locked tight to the junction of their bodies as she creamed hot and wild around him. The soaked witch jerked and shook uncontrollably, her fists slamming down on the table as Snape felt the tightening in his loins burst, electricity shooting up and down his spine, toes curling. Great bolts of light appeared before his eyes in time with the bursts of come jetting from his body into the cavity of the witch beneath him. He bucked against her for a full minute and a half before slumping tiredly on top of her, catching his breath while their sweat mingled, emissions drying against one another in the cool of the classroom.

"Great gods, Miss Granger. If I'd known you were such a good fantastic fuck, I'd have sought you out long ago. Be on your way. I'm late for dinner in the Great Hall. Come back anytime you like."

With that standing invitation, he slapped her on the thigh, scourgified himself and left the classroom as he belatedly removed her silencing charm just before the door closed behind him.

Hermione stared up at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes. Her confidence in herself sorely shaken, she gathered her torn clothing and dressed the best she was able. After waiting numbly in a crook of the dungeon for what seemed like hours, the witch hobbled to the Floo in the Great Hall after it was emptied of staff and students and went home, duly chastened and at a loss as to how to proceed.


	11. Chapter 11 A Woman Reunited

Kingsley didn't like the secretive smirk on Lucius Malfoy's face as the aristocrat whisked down the corridor after he'd spied on Hermione's departure that same day. In the Minister's opinion, the man still wasn't to be trusted. Even though the war was over and his name was technically in good standing, the man was still on the unofficial watch list of his own making. Harry had spoken to Kingsley if not a bit cryptically, about Hermione paying Harry a visit, and her tale about being in a spot of trouble. The tall, broad man smelled a snake, and where there was a snake, there was a Slytherin or two at the heart of it. Taking a mental note to have the elder Malfoy watched even more closely, he gathered up his robes and turned back up the stairs to his own department.

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Hermione felt lost. Her mind, normally so full of ideas and drive, had shut down in the wake of the Potion master's possession of her person. The body was a funny thing, she mused, betraying her despite her best attempts at controlling it. Just maybe, because of her cerebral focus, she lacked the ability to control her more primal instincts. Although contrite in intention, she questioned her own motives in this fine pickle she'd gotten herself into. Involved with a married man? Secretly allowing her to be blackmailed by not one, but two Slytherins, one of which was a former professor, the other being a former enemy that had allowed her torture in his own home? Even by Hermione's own standards this entire thing was ludicrous, by far.

The day was shot as she walked along a lake her work frequently took her to. The setting sun was a brilliant shade of oranges, gold's, pinks, magentas and purple blending together, a symphony of color transcending her troubled state of mind. She felt very much at peace in the moment. A mother Hippogriff and her baby drank of the cool water on the opposite side of the lake. Their noses caused ripples to ride along the surface, lapping gently on the shore where pebbles interrupted the lapping march with congruent circles fading into the pale earth at Hermione's feet.

Arms around her legs that were pulled up to her chest, chin resting on knees, Hermione's eyes slowly closed while her mind calmed from the gentle cadence of nature lulling the troubled Gryffindor to sleep.

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Tensions ran high within select offices of the Ministry over the course of the week. Hermione made herself scarce, taking any and every project that took her out into the field with the minimum of paperwork or extensive follow-up. She even went so far as to trade a few of her assignments with others that were all too happy to trade with her. No one asked questions when an assignment was upgraded from something grueling or nasty to pleasant and a short work day.

Arthur, being Hermione's boss, noticed on the Thursday of that week that not only had he not seen Hermione all week, he'd had no less than three inquiries from Lucius Malfoy to send the little witch to his office at "her earliest convenience." Such a request was highly unusual, coming from the patronizing blond, considering he usually had his own methods of contacting those he wished to converse with.

Giving the stack of papers marked "Urgent" one last look, Arthur cast a quick Tempus, pushing back his chair and straightening his robes. It was check in time for his employees. Normally, the laid-back wizard was hands-off in the daily goings-on of his employees when it came to their arrivals and departures at the Ministry. He kept track of their assignments of course, giving reviews, listening to concerns, assigning discipline or action as needed, but overall, his team was phenomenal. Arthur had built it from the ground up and he was very proud of their skill, contribution to the Ministry, and society in general.

Under the guise of doing a random check, Arthur placed himself next to the check-in door that logged the wand signature of each employee. There was no way to fudge one's hours; they were automatically logged with an automatic transcript of the day's events available with the touch of Arthur's own wand on theirs, and a Recall spell Hermione had helped him devise. Even that one profitable spell had saved the Ministry hundreds of thousands of galleons in the six months it had been in use. Recognition was lacking, but the witch had received a handsome sum for her efforts.

One by one his employees trekked down the hall from the main Floo and Apparition points from the Ministry lobby and reception. Several had already checked in, completed their paperwork and gone, according to the glowing roster that changed as each person walked through the door. The minutes stretched on, the stream of employees slowing to a trickle until the only one left to check in was Hermione, minus one bloke still on paternity leave.

Arthur frowned, closing and warding the door after a full hour past check-in time had passed. He strode purposefully toward the Floos and shrugged past the remaining Ministry officials that attempted to converse with the man. Still in official robes, Arthur contacted a moody Molly who he rolled his eyes at after she'd terminated his connection mid-sentence.

"Bloody witches are going to be the death of me," he breathed inwardly. With a sigh, he plucked his broom from his pocket, enlarged it and took off towards a certain young woman's domicile.

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"Go away!" came the screech from inside the small flat.

Arthur rested his forehead against the cool lacquered wood of her front door. "Hermione, it's me. I've come to talk. That's all. Please open the door."

The tear-streaked witch wiped her snotty nose on the soaked, tatty linen and scrubbed her blotchy face with the forearms of her dirty robes.

"Coming! Give me a minute," she called out with a slight waver to her voice.

Arthur was no stranger to female hormones. He wasn't even concerned with being seen at Hermione's place; after all, he had every right to check on an employee that hadn't checked in after work. The fatherly wizard had done so before, and not for just those he was close to. It was more of issue that their personal relationship was starting to threaten his focus at work. What had started out as something fun and exciting, a relationship that met all of the needs that were neglected at home, was turning into a replica of that same situation.

He was about to knock again when the door opened. Hermione had made a valiant effort at cleaning herself up but she was obviously distraught beyond anything he'd seen lately.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he questioned, sweeping into the flat with his travelling cloak wrapping around her, his strong arms enfolding her in a loving, comforting embrace. The small witch clung to him like static, practically disappearing amongst the folds of fabric that made up his cloak. For long minutes she continued to sob as he stroked her hair and made shushing sounds. The low sounds of an Irish lullaby were crooned almost nonsensically but seemed to soothe Hermione more than his soft caresses and intermittent kisses on her crown had done.

Sobs gave way to whimpers, which turned into hiccoughing, and eventually, her breathing evened out. With a huge sigh, she pulled away from Arthur and met his gaze.

Large, dark circles ran rings around her eyes, the color almost reminiscent of a bruise.

"Have you slept at all this week, Hermione? What's got you in a state?"

Arthur clasped both of her hands, covering her small ones with his calloused, larger ones with care.

"Not- not much," she answered, sticking out her lower lip to blow the stray hair from her face.

Arthur reached out and tucked the errant curls behind one ear, searching gently for more answers.

"And…?"

The question hung there, pregnant, while Hermione seemed to deliberate inwardly. This worried him. She would only do such a thing if she were hiding something from him. Hermione was a terrible liar. No wonder she'd been avoiding him, and probably everyone else, all week! All it took was a good cry and the guilty shift of her eyes to alert him to off-key behavior.

Arthur stood up and deposited his cloak over the back of her sofa. "I'll make us some tea, love, while you decide whether you are going to tell me what's troubling you. No tall tales, just the truth."

With a firm nod he strode confidently into her kitchenette, bustling about as if he'd lived there all his life. Her cupboards were much like most of her life, orderly and predictable, save the recent past, of course.

Hermione ducked into the bathroom to splash cold water onto her face. How was she going to tell him that Lucius Malfoy AND Severus Snape were blackmailing her? Would he recoil with disgust and horror when he found out her weak excuses for indiscretion? A sharp, barking laugh broke out when she realized how ludicrous that sounded, even to her. Here she was, cheating on a man that she was already privy to helping cheat on his own wife, a woman who had housed, helped to raise, and trusted her since her first year at Hogwarts. Not even Rita Skeeter could come up with a story as twisted as hers.

"Your cuppa's ready, love, when you are," Arthur called from the sofa.

She Scourgified her dirty, wrinkled state as she hadn't yet changed from work. Her hair was still a mess, but presentable, and the tears scrubbed from her face. There was nothing she could do about the dark circles unless she got more sleep, unless she wanted to cast a glamour. Seeing as how he'd already seen them, she left her face as-is.

No words were spoken while they had biscuits and PG Tips, sipping quietly, a munch or dusting crumbs from a lap the only sounds to punctuate the stiff silence. Arthur looked up from over the rim of his mug every so often. He wasn't going to leave until she told him what was bothering her, Molly's tirades be damned. Hermione was his heart and he would care for her.

Almost in unison, their empty mugs and plates were set on the coffee table in front of them. Hermione held her hands folded in her lap, staring at a very interesting speck of biscuit on her carpet.

Strong, sure fingers gripped both of her shoulders and gently, but firmly, guided her round to face him. The knuckle of Arthur's forefinger lifted her chin. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me and tell me what's bothering you."

Her lower lip trembled. "I can't, you'll hate me," she whispered, doing her damndest not to cry again.

"I could never hate you, love, you know that." He kept his knuckle under her chin and ran his other thumb over the soft curve of her opposite cheek.

"Hermione, I love you. I thought we trusted one another. How can I know that you still feel the same if you won't talk to me? Please confide in me. Let me be your anchor."

That lower lip trembled even harder when she opened her eyes, fresh tears pooling in the corners.

"You're going to hate me," she repeated.

Arthur lent her a kind smile, cocking his head. "Try me. I think you'll find I can be a pretty understanding fella if you will give me a chance, love."

Hermione gathered her courage like a shield against the rest of the world. This was insane; the whole situation was insane. She was going to lose him. This was the end of her love affair with Arthur and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Like a freight train the words tumbled out, faster and faster, starting from the time Snape had fucked her in the woods until their current talk.

Arthur's smile faded as he listened. The seriousness of his demeanor scared her. Not even Snape's and Lucius' threats could cow her the way his hands drew away, his hands bunching into fists which he pushed into the sofa cushion in a distracted, offhand display of anger.

When she was finished, the silence was once again palpable. Fresh tear tracks streaked down her face but went untouched by either party. Arthur's gaze slid past her shoulder to a point on the far wall. His face was inscrutable. The young witch worried her lower lip in frenzy, practically able to see the wheels turning in her redheaded lover's mind.

The tension reminded Hermione of her Potions Newt, stirring the thick concoction, holding her breath just before the final moment when it either turned out perfectly or blew up in her face.

Arthur inhaled deeply and held out his arms to her. "Come here, you silly witch," he exhaled and was nearly bowled over with an armful of joyful Hermione.

"Whoa! Hold on there, love. I've got you. Arthur's got you. Just hold on. If we work together, everything is going to be alright."

She pulled back from his tight embrace, searching for answers. "I don't know what I'm going to do! What do I tell Lucius? I can't face Snape again, you know how he treated me the last time I went to confront him!"

Arthur's normally gentle eyes hardened. "He practically raped you. Blackmail is the same as rape. If you wanted, Hermione, you could file a complaint with the Auror division. That sonofabitch would be put away so fast his head would spin."

Hermione rapidly shook her head. "I can't do that! I can't let you lose your job!"

"Screw my job for a moment, love, and listen to yourself! You've already sacrificed too much at my expense and I won't have the woman I love subjecting herself to mental and physical abuse for the sake of MY welfare! I'm a big boy, Hermione; I can take care of myself."

"What about Lucius Malfoy?"

"What about him? Hermione, his hands are tied in more ways than one. The Minister's got him by the balls and he knows it. He's trying to manipulate you in ways I'm not even sure you imagine. Even if he gets his way, he'll still cook up another way to screw with me and everyone else around him. That's the way he is. Malfoy's always been a cunning bastard. I just wish you'd come to me right away. I could have saved you from this anguish and self-castigation."

Arthur scooted closer to her on the sofa and embraced her tenderly. "What would I do without you? Yes, I've got a lot riding on my position with supporting my family, career and marriage. Nothing in this world is an absolute. You, of all people, should know that nothing can or should be taken for granted. Look at all we lost in the Final Battle! Long before you were born, people like Lucius Malfoy were manipulating the government, the laws, and the lives of the common witch and wizard. Even if you play their game, there will always be another Malfoy, another game, another Dark Lord. The best way to beat Malfoy at his game is to stop playing. He can't play the game if you refuse to cooperate, right?"

"But then-"

A finger on her lips stopped her from speaking.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of Lucius Malfoy, and if he follows through with his threats, then I'll deal with the consequences, not you. I won't have you suffer through any more, Hermione. I mean that."

Arthur leaned in and kissed her lips softly, sweetly, molding the angle to fit with hers perfectly. His hands slid down to the curve of her bosom, tracing the outlines of breasts through her clothing.

Hermione shuddered slightly and sighed into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him down on top of her, lying back so his larger frame was atop her own.

"Arthur, I love you, how I love you," she chanted in between kisses.

It had been too long. Even a day without her sweetness seemed too long. Hermione had awakened his sexual drive and it had stayed strong, his body also leaner and stronger, even than it had been ten years prior. The younger witch had prompted Arthur to take better care of him so he could keep up with her ardor and passion. The fire raged hotly in his soul for the brilliant witch. He wanted her as he had no other, save for Molly in her younger days, before she'd changed…

Arthur kissed a trail of fire down her neck, pulling aside her collar to have access to as much flesh as he could get. His cock hardened painfully and its arousal was evident against Hermione's thigh.

He pushed himself off of her to help Hermione hike up her robes. Their urgency for one another, to sate their need to reaffirm their relationship through physical union, made their actions all the more desperate and frenzied.

"Hurry Arthur, I need you so much! I need you inside of me," she gasped, feeling his fingers pull aside the crotch of her knickers and sink into her willing heat.

"Yes, love, yes, that's it," he murmured, bending down to French kiss her as his fingers pumped in and out of her.

"Darling, you're so wet for me. Oh gods, I want you so much, love, so much."

He pulled out his juicy fingers and closed his eyes, tasting them. "You taste so good. Oh, I wish I had more time."

Arthur helped Hermione out of her knickers and pushed aside his robes, unleashing himself to her bare crotch.

It was rather erotic, this baring of only the essentials to one another in their haste to make love.

Hermione helped move his cock along the slick junction, rocking her hips up and down so it ran over her clit and back down to her entrance several times, whimpering softly into his mouth, tongues dueling for possession of one another.

"Want you, want you," he breathed hotly.

"Fuck me, Arthur. Please, hurry, do it now."

Further encouragement was unnecessary. The elder Weasley slid his cock home, balls flush with her pink pussy lips. He gulped and panted against her mouth, holding himself steady so he didn't blow his load prematurely.

"You feel so good love, give me a minute."

She nodded mutely while his head hung, tilted to the side as he adjusted to her tight clutch pulsing wetly around his member.

When he started to move inside her he did so slowly at first, pulling out so only the head of his penis hung precariously at her entrance before sliding back in to the hilt. He wanted her to feel every inch of him, as he wanted to feel every inch of her slide over him. This was reclamation of what he considered to be HIS. If there was any doubt as to how he felt about this young witch, or her place in his future, it was gone after tonight. No other man would ever put himself inside of her if it cost him his very last breath to ensure she remained his alone.

"So tight, love, oh my god!"

It was almost as if they were making love for the first time, his long limbs hanging off the couch as he twisted them around, now kneeling on the rug with her sweetness at waist level to him. Arthur lifted her legs over his arms and thrust himself into her harder, more deeply, lightly hitting her cervix with his length and girth, pleasuring her tight pussy immensely.

Hermione's soft cries made him impossibly hard, spurring him on as he concentrated on lasting for her. Arthur knew he could go at any time. It was only the years of self-control that held his orgasm in check.

"That's right, love, I want to feel you come apart around me. You're so beautiful! You are everything to me love; let me feel you come for me. I love you so much!"

Hermione's cries got louder, her voice cracking as it shot an octave higher when Arthur hit that special place inside her pussy. Keeping the angle true, he plunged into her sucking sweetness, using her legs as leverage to pull her into every thrust.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione, you feel so good. That's right baby, come for me, my sweet girl!"

Calling on his reserves after his long day and emotional roller coaster with Hermione, Arthur propelled his hips to pound into her, a light shriek emitting from her lovely lips as her body stiffened, cunt tightening impossibly so around his cock. Teeth grit in concentration, he kept fucking her through it, knowing it was also intense and pleasurable for her as he did so.

Her hot juices and cream melted like butter around his plunging shaft. The backs of Arthur's robes were soaked with sweat, his red hair dark as it plastered wetly to his face. Rivulets of come dripped from where they were joined onto the sofa cushion and floor.

As the woman under him relaxed slightly Arthur finally let himself go, letting her legs drop as he rose over her limp form and caught her mouth in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, his instinctual drive taking over as he pounded her pussy for all he was worth.

Arthur was a big man, and with his weight behind such fierce thrusting, it was a good thing Hermione had the sofa cushions to break the impact or she'd have been black and blue the following day, if they'd made love on the floor instead.

The wet slapping was loud and fast, nothing romantic or sensual about the finality of their coupling as he drove into her with a single-minded desire to fill her with his sperm.

This wasn't just about making up, or making love; it was about his claiming her in the most animalistic way possible as his own.

Chest heaving, the Head of the Department for Magical Creatures cried out as his balls drew up tightly and he pushed himself as far inside of Hermione as was physically possible, hips jerking erratically while the force of his orgasm burned through his shaft, fiery pulses of pleasure inducing Arthur into an intense high that blocked out all other sight and sound momentarily.

At last, he'd emptied the final bit of come inside of Hermione's luscious young body and he fell, spent, almost catatonic, against her while his cock slipped out, hanging limp and sated against his skin.

Hermione adjusted her position slightly so she lay sideways on the sofa, her fingers pushing the wet strands of his hair back, mopping at his brow with the edge of her work robes.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

After a minute he responded, nodding, not quite having gotten his breath back to a speaking state.

His head rested finally against her soft bosom, and he quietly thanked the goddess for the love of this beautiful, intelligent, and passionate young woman.

For long minutes, then, he kissed her, both still exposed while their emissions dried and the scent of sex hung in the air, a perfume unique to their spent passions.

"I have to go home. I- I've been gone too long already, but I had to make sure you were alright."

Hermione nodded, chewing on her lip while they straightened themselves out. She didn't bother to Scourgify herself. She wanted to remember him for a while, physically, after he'd gone. A shower would erase that and she wanted to feel his release inside of her for a time.

With conviction, he rose and took her hands in his own, looking down at her, fingertips joined.

"I meant what I said. Don't worry about Malfoy. He's not your problem anymore. If he or anyone else harasses you, tell me immediately. You are everything to me. Please don't take any more on yourself, Hermione. It's not worth it. I love you. Please take care, for me?"

"I promise, Arthur. I will do my best to stay clear of him and Snape and just lay low."

Arthur nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

With a final kiss he straightened and let himself out, pausing to flash a familiar, loving smile before he disappeared with a click of the door shutting behind him.

For a few hours Hermione simply sat and pondered her next move. She would respect Arthur's wishes and stay clear of danger, but that didn't mean she couldn't help dispel the threat Malfoy posed to her lover and untold others.

With a wicked grin, she set about cleaning herself up for bed and the next work day. Hermione had work to do.


	12. Chapter 12 A Woman and Man Bereft

A Woman (and Man) Bereft

_Only a couple of more days until the end of the week_; Hermione chanted this mantra to herself as she worked feverishly on the finishing up of her current projects. She wanted to be done by the weekend so nothing was hanging over her head that would keep her from her lover's embrace. Shy smiles and a quickie over his desk served to warm their hearts. Hermione didn't see much of her red-haired heartthrob, but he was present in her heart and mind at all hours of the day and night.

The small witch was so wrapped up in looking forward to the weekend that she completely forgot to avoid Lucius Malfoy, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

The snob had the gall to corner her in the women's loo, warding it with a locking and silencing charm while she was still in the stall with her knickers around her ankles. When she emerged to wash up, he was already upon her, trapping her with his large frame and a silent _Accio_ for her wand.

"Where have you been?" he hissed dangerously. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Have you made any progress with Severus?" Lucius was angry with himself. He'd so far failed to get Snape in a position so as to slip Veritaserum into the man's drink. The cautious bastard still didn't trust his food or drink out of his sight even for a moment, even going so far as to cast charms over food the elves had made from the Hogwarts kitchens to ensure they hadn't been tampered with. Lucius fully intended to take his own failure and subsequent frustration out on her.

Hermione avoided his gaze despite the fact that he had her wand and was towering above her, hands placed on either side of her head against the cool bathroom tile of the Ministry loo, next to the Auror division, no less.

_Yes, I've made progress,_ she smirked inwardly,_ and he fucked me over a desk in the potions classroom without as much as a by-your-leave. I wonder what you would say to that, Malfoy?_

Instead she gave a noncommittal shrug, staring under his arm to a small scratch on one of the stall doors.

"You will answer me, witch!"

She cried out when his fingers grabbed hold of her face painfully, squeezing harder and harder until she swore the bones in her jaw would crack. Hermione attempted to pull his arm down from her face but he was too powerful for her small frame. In desperation she brought her knee up straight into his crotch. The built wizard howled, bending over to clutch his injured privates. In a flash Hermione snatched her wand from his hand. She didn't dare send anything too powerful at Malfoy; the Ministry tracked spells very closely within its four walls. She settled for a nasty itching hex that had him writhing on the floor, hands clutched over his balls, skin on fire.

Her last mistake was turning her back on him without disarming and fully disabling the powerful wizard. A wandless _Immobulus_ had her suddenly stock still, her eyes darting back and forth, hand on the door and wand in the other.

She heard rather than saw him mutter some counter spells to the itching hex and a minor healing charm. The water ran in one of the basins, than silence.

His breath came hot and heavy next to her ear; her eyes squeezed shut with a tear sliding down a cheek quickly coloring with finger-shaped bruises.

"You plead sorry so soon with fake tears? Tsk, tsk, young lady. That clever, insipid little hex is going to cost you."

Lucius plucked her wand from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder, allowing it to clatter somewhere at the opposite end of the bathroom.

He silenced her but disabled the _Immobulus_. Hermione immediately began to fight and struggle against him but he only chuckled darkly in her ear.

"I do so love my ladies when they fight. That's right, pet, fight me. Exhaust yourself so I can take my pleasure. You are such a succulent young thing. Tell me, how many wizards are you fucking?"

Hermione shook her head vehemently against his chest.

"Oh really? I find it hard to believe that a young, sexy witch with a sexual addiction would only be fucking one man. Come now, you can tell Daddy Lucius."

Hermione blanched as her captor pulled her hard against his lean body, grinding his erection into her back. She struggled some more, twisting every which way before allowing herself to go dead weight in his arms, trying desperately to trick him into believing she'd given up.

Unfortunately for her, Lucius wasn't that naïve and he took the opportunity to swiftly bind her, pressing her face tightly against the wall. More tears squeezed out through her tightly shut lids.

Lucius spelled the clothing from her body, leaving her suddenly hardened nipples smashed painfully against the wall along with the rest of her body.

"I'm going to fuck the insolence from you, pet. You will learn to obey me, and you will learn to love it. No one crosses a Malfoy no one, especially a filthy Mudslut like you."

The witch gasped at his use of such vile language. She'd never imagined he was completely reformed, but for him to treat her so terribly was a blatant shock to her system. The rustling of fabric, a zip and his hot, thick member against her backside was sending involuntary shudders through her body.

"You love it, don't you, nasty, nasty little girl? Sluts like you are meant to be used and abused. You will never be good for anything but sticking my cock into like the lowlife come bucket you are. God, I love how tight your sweet little cunt is around my cock!"

He shoved his entire length in her unprepared pussy with a harsh grunt, panting hard against her neck before thrusting shallowly, continuing his little speech.

"Mudsluts tell themselves they are better than everyone else, good and pure of intention, holding their ripe little pussies above a wizard's head, thinking it a fine repayment for love and galleons and favors. Well, my little pet let me tell you something. No witch will ever have any such hold over a Malfoy. _Ever!"_

With that conclusion he took her tied wrists and held them above her head with one fist, the other curling in her ponytail as he thrust against her bare ass.

"So… Fucking…. Tight… Gods!"

With shock, she realized he was coming inside of her after less than half a minute of thrusting. His entire body was taut, crushing her against the tile. Biting her lip raw, she hoped against hope he was done with her.

"I'm not done with you, so don't even think about getting out of here yet," he panted, as if riding the train of her thoughts instead of her backside. After a full several minutes his breathing calmed, his softening cock hardening again while still embedded within her.

Hermione could feel his come leaking from her channel, down the inside of her thighs.

He must have finished with his initial monologue; from then on out he simply thrust into her for a time, almost viciously at first but then lessening his stroke, murmuring into her hair words she couldn't quite get the meaning of. Strong hands left their grip on her hands and hair, sliding down the sides of her body to cup her bum. Lucius leaned back, spreading her ass cheeks so he could watch his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.

"I love watching my come coating my cock, pushing it back up inside of you. Did you know that I own my own apothecary? Not many do," he stated casually, pumping languidly and speaking as he would during tea.

Hermione wished she knew where this was going. At this time of day most of the staff would be gone. She'd already spoken to Arthur, and no one would miss her. To make matters worse, her body betrayed her, responding to his large size and the length of time he stroked into her. Lucius obviously felt it too, for he hissed his approval when a gush of fluid coated her inner thighs.

"Coming around, are we?" he chuckled, "No pun intended, of course." He continued to laugh at his own joke. "As I was saying, I own an apothecary right here in the Ministry. In fact, I have a special contributor make many of the potions that are sold. It would be a shame if you were to take one that was not, shall we say, up to standard?"

Hermione's heart felt as if it stopped cold when she realized that the only potion she ever bought from the Ministry apothecary was her contraceptive potion. She started to struggle again violently, her mouth working, vocal chords rubbing themselves raw against the silencing spell.

"Yes, Hermione, that's right. Struggle for me, witch! I will fill your belly with my bastard and shame you if you do not do as I say. Bloody Gryffindor, if matters not if you do as I say. You will still be forced to come to me for support, won't you? Such a good girl as you, the high and mighty Gryffindor, would never abort an innocent life, would you?"

Lucius dug his fingers into her thighs and fucked her brutally, forcing an orgasm from her despite the loathing filling her veins at his mere touch. She felt no pleasure from it, the act merely mechanical as the son-of-a-bitch got off on the idea of impregnating her, manipulating her for his own sick, twisted designs.

"You will be so beautiful, bent over my desk, full of my child. I will keep your fertile body under my protection, and you will get me the answers I desire, allow me sexual liberty, vow to sleep with no other man. You, my pet, my delicious Mudslut, are pure, unadulterated perfection and destruction. How I love this rapture you bring to my loins, pet, oh sweet Circe!"

The delusional aristocrat cried out, his deep timbre echoing hollowly around the cold room. The porcelain sinks and sterile mirrors bore silent witness to his completed consummation as he shot heavy jets of come inside of the small witch for a second and final time.

At last he finished, scourgifying only himself, setting a light timing charm to go off when he left the women's loo.

Hermione slowly turned herself around, her body sore and aching from his invasion. It felt like he'd shoved a Quidditch bat between her legs and set it on "ram". Even as his eyes fell upon her, his sneer spoke volumes as his come continued to leak from her pussy and down her thighs.

"Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. You really are the most amazing piece, Miss Granger," he sniffed delicately. "Of course, you will tell no one. You have only to imagine the consequences of charges for hexing my person."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and realized the silencing charm was still in effect. She sent him her most hateful glare. How dare he threaten her after he had followed and accosted _her!_

"You will inform me as soon as you confirm you are with child. I have great plans for you, pet. You'd best be quick with procuring the information I require as well. Let's just say there will be more unfortunate circumstances if you fail me in any manner."

Lucius pointed his cane in her direction to emphasize his point, poking her in the breast sharply before lowering the wards and disillusioning himself before leaving.

As soon as the door closed Hermione sank to the floor and burst into tears.

The weekend came and went in a flurry of activity. Arthur had forgotten to mention to Hermione he'd been called away for a Ministerial function with the entire contingent of department Heads. Oblivious to the fact he'd left her waiting so long in the chill and rain that she'd caught ill, he carried on with the last minute mini-convention, as was his duty.

Wives were required to attend and he was unable to get away to even send her an owl or Patronus. With extreme frustration the robust wizard begged off dinner at home with Molly that Sunday night, giving her an excuse that he needed to finish up a deadline at his office. He left her behind screaming he was a worthless, uncaring man to desert her when she had no one left at home to keep her company. Arthur had grit his teeth, squared his shoulders and Apparated straight to Hermione's flat.

There was no light under the door. While early for her to be in bed, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Perhaps she had gone out? After lightly rapping three times and waiting, he went with the latter conclusion, deciding against leaving a note simply. Exhausted, he reluctantly headed to his office to make it look like he had actually been there, picked up some random papers and apparated back home for a fun-filled night of nagging from his tiresome wife and a splitting headache.

Monday passed, Arthur anxiously keeping watch once it was reported Hermione hadn't shown up for work or called in. His department had passed inspection with flying colors, but with a couple of renovations popped onto his plate at the Heads meeting, he had to stay and oversee expansion of three offices, updated tracking systems and the ordering of new equipment and uniforms. These were days he really wished he'd taken Shacklebolt up on the offer of a secretary, but he'd turned down that portion of the budget, citing his own support for cost-cutting measures which had earned him a hearty pat on the back and a whole lot of headaches the following year. He vowed not to make that mistake again.

Work ended too late for his taste, and he was ready to step into the Floo to check on his girl when the very same said Minister accosted him from the rear.

"Arthur! Just the wizard I wanted to see."

Arthur wanted to scream. It seemed like anything and everything was keeping him from checking on Hermione.

Of course, he turned and graced the Minister with a broad smile.

"Hello there, Kingsley! Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh come now, old man. There's no need for formalities. Let's say we pop off to the Leaky for pint."

Arthur knew it wasn't an offer, it was a command disguised as one. Kingsley didn't mince words, and if he was taking time out for a pint, it was for business, not pleasure as the man rarely drank.

"Alright then," he sighed, "but I best be home smart-ish or the missus will have me strung up by the ears."

Kingsley laughed heartily and called out their destination.

When the two had settled into a fairly secluded corner and been waited on by a busty and smiling Rosmerta, who flashed an eyeful of cleavage towards Kingsley's appreciative view, they cast _Muffliato_ so they could talk more privately.

Arthur waited until the big black man had downed half his pint, wiping the froth from his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"This isn't a friendly chat, is it, friend," Arthur stated.

Kings shook his head. "I'm afraid not. You see Arthur; I'm a bit worried about our Hermione." The big man studied his long-time friend and Order companion, now co-worker, noting the mild alarm that Arthur attempted to cover up by hiding his mouth in his drink, gripping the sweaty glass tightly.

"What's on your mind, exactly?" Arthur inquired gently. Kingsley wanted something from him, but he wasn't ready to give up the exact nature of his relationship with Hermione, just yet.

The Deputy Minister squinted just a bit, as if internally debating something of import. He downed the rest of his glass in one go and poured another, sipping the second one frugally.

"I've noticed our friend Malfoy Sr. taking an unnatural interest in Miss Granger, as of late," he stated nonchalantly.

Arthur choked on his drink, sputtering some out of his nose, coughing hard. Kingsley got up and pounded him on the back until the other man had settled enough to resume their conversation.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned over the reaction his comment had garnered from one of his department heads.

"Fine," Arthur wheezed, waving his hand. "Carry on."

Kingsley steepled hit fingers over his drink, leveling a sobering gaze at the still-recovering wizard across from him. "As I was saying, Malfoy Sr. has been showing an abnormal interest in our Miss Granger. He's approached not only me, but at least three other department Heads inquiring about her duties, daily routine, relationships in regards to other departments, and even if she were seeing anyone at the current time. Does any of this sound familiar to you?"

Arthur felt as If his heart were going to pound right out of his chest. _Did he know? Did he suspect?_

"I-I s-seem to re-recall Lucius approaching me about Hermione a few times."

Kingsley had never known Arthur to stutter. Now he definitely knew Arthur knew more than he was letting on. "Please enlighten me as to the nature of these inquiries."

"I'm afraid there's nothing much to report, Sir. He simply asked as to her whereabouts, and I'd responded honestly, that she was either out in the field working or I hadn't known where she was, on that one occasion, over her lunch break."

"Do you ever see Miss Granger outside of the professional arena?" Kingsley dropped casually.

"E-excuse me?" Arthur started to sweat. "Is it hot in here?" He loosened his robes, pounding down the remainder of his drink and emptying the rest of the beverage from the larger container to his own pint glass.

"Yes, it is a bit hot in here, but you seem rather flushed. Would you like to go for a walk?"

"I would like that, yes." Arthur was on the verge of fainting. This couldn't be happening, not now! Bloody hell why did this have to happen right now! He had enough on his plate trying to keep Molly off his back and Hermione happy without the Minister's right hand man suspecting his liaison with a girl not only twenty odd years his junior and his subordinate, but the Golden Girl they'd all loved in some manner or another as a daughter over the years and watched grow up.

Waiting for Arthur to finish his drink, they paid the bill and left the pub, Rosmerta's curious eyes following them out the closing door. She shrugged and went to flirt with another paying customer.

The leaves crunched under their feet as the two headed down a residential street. The lamplights had come on this part of Muggle London, shadows chased away by passing vehicles that drove by at slow speeds.

Arthur always thought it so ironic, the way Muggles never seemed to notice their odd manner of dress. Either that or they simply didn't care.

The pair walked in companionable silence. Kingsley waited this time for Arthur to open up, but nothing was forthcoming. He took a deep breath and sighed, slight frost curling from his lips.

"You know you can tell me anything-" he began, surprised when Arthur interrupted him.

"I can't tell you this. It's too important, and has nothing to do with the Ministry. I just- can't. Please don't ask. I beg of you, this one favor, Kingsley, don't make me give up this one secret."

Kingsley stopped and turned, grasping Arthur's shoulders firmly, standing eye to eye, man to man. "Promise me this has nothing to do with Lucius hurting Hermione."

"Lucius what? No! I would never harbor any ill intent towards her or anyone seeking to harm her either! Why in the world do you think Lucius would want to hurt her?"

Kingsley shook his head, pulling a big hand over his five-o'clock shadow. "I don't think he'd actually hurt her, I have just never seen Lucius pursue someone or something so single-mindedly without a specific end-goal in mind. I think it's in our best interest if we all keep tabs on our Slytherin friend. The war may be long over, but that does not mean his intentions are entirely honorable."

Arthur nodded, his gaze sliding past Kingsley to a distant point in the inky black. "We should be getting back."

That night Arthur stared at the ceiling of the living room long after he'd been relegated to the couch. It was obvious he was going to have to get used to sleeping on it for a long stretch. Molly wasn't speaking to him; again. Thoughts fell thick like rain against the shield of his life, the one he'd spent so many years building. He loved Hermione so much. There was no doubt, no hesitation in his heart when he pictured himself with her. Was he willing to let her go? The mere hint of that future seared a raw path across his chest like a serrated knife. Well, that answer was certainly a resounding no.

He shifted, now facing the worn floral fabric a generation of Weasley's had sat upon, enjoyed and made so many memories together snuggled together within its comforting cushions.

His talk with Kingsley left him with doubts in his mind, regardless of what his heart was telling him. Was he ready to give it all up? This house, the things in it; they were all just things. Possessions had ceased to mean anything when their home had originally gone up in flames during the war. He was happy to have most of his family alive and kicking. The one great sadness that weighed heavily was his beloved Molly. Was it wrong to want to leave her and start a new life with Hermione? Would his children hate him, never allowing him to see his precious grandchildren? His heart clenched once more at the thought of losing any of them.

He simply didn't know what to do. That was why he needed, now more than anything, to have a serious talk with his lover about a future; their future together, as a couple, and if she were amenable, husband and wife. Arthur knew it was putting the cart before the horse. There wasn't even a whisper of a divorce in his own house yet and here he was planning a new life with another. Grief beyond measure welled up in his heart.

"Oh, Circe, Merlin, anyone, are you listening? What am I supposed to do? Great Lord and Lady, please guide me, I feel so lost," he whispered against his blanket. No one except the clock on the wall registered his sadness, which had turned from "Home", to "In Danger".

Indeed.


	13. Chapter 13 A Woman in Danger

A Woman in Danger

Rosmerta glanced up the stairs for the fifth time that hour. Miss Granger hadn't been down in the three days she'd rented a room. It was highly unusual for any guest to check in and not come down for meals. Miss Granger hadn't brought much with her, not that that meant much. It was entirely possible the resourceful witch had reduced her supplies and simply restored them when she'd unpacked. It was none of the Innkeeper's business, of course, but Rosmerta made it her business to know what was going on around her. One never knew when that information could be profitable or save a life. The pretty, mature woman had made quite a few extra galleons from patrons greasing her palms aplenty over the years.

The afternoon was unusually slow, even for the Leaky. Not many folks were even making their way in between London and Diagon Alley. The woman hated it when things were slow. The place had been swept three times, all of the glasses polished and re-polished, the two businessmen in the corner waved her away after their third free refills of Butterbeer and the token drunk was snoring away at the end of the bar.

"Fuck all," she muttered, slapping her rag onto the counter. Her help wasn't due in until afternoon rush when the Ministry let out. Not usually one to leave her post, the curvy barkeep locked up the till and took the stairs two at a time to the top, traipsing lightly down the long hall to the door second to last on the left. It was one of her, erm, more "affordable" suites, meaning it was a bit of a shithole. Still, Hermione had insisted on one of her cheaper rooms. The drunk snoring at the bar kept semi-permanent residence in the cheapest rental.

She rapped her knuckles on the worn wooden door, careful to curl her fake nails under and against her palm so there was no breakage. Fake fingernails weren't cheap for a working girl and she wanted to impress a certain Deputy Minister, should he stop by!

When there was no reply, she rapped again, impatiently tapping her toe. "Miss Granger!" she hollered her voice slightly rough from years of yelling over a loud pub environment. "Miss Granger, are you in there? I'm just doing a well check. You've been in there for three days. I haven't registered Apparition so I know you're in there! Please answer the door or I'll need to come in to check on you. I can't leave the bar too long, you understand."

Rosmerta had specifically keyed the rooms to only allow Apparition of paying guests registered to the room they were in. Each time they came or went an automatic log was kept of their magical signature and the time. Of course, there were times she could be "persuaded" to allow whomever to come and go, but that was few and far between. Only special clients were allowed this secret privilege and even fewer could afford the service.

Rosmerta swore softly and took out her wand, spelling open the door. Guests were not allowed to ward their doors with anything stronger than silencing spells. If they did there was an automatic fine charged to their account for "obstruction of safety" in case of fire or emergency. The door swung open easily and the witch stepped through, casting about. Her eyes fell immediately to the bed, the still form of Miss Granger resting atop the covers. At first all seemed well. Indeed, dry foodstuffs and flasks of drink were spread across the sole piece of furniture in the room apart from the bed, an old table with one of the two chairs pulled out. Bits of cheese and cracker lay strewn about, one of the flasks uncorked, which the barkeep sniffed. There was no odor and spilling a bit, Rosmerta discerned it was simply water. So the witch wasn't drunk; well, that was one relief, anyway.

She tiptoed over to the bed and gently laid a hand on the sleeping girl. The first thing to catch her attention was the way Hermione's body shivered violently, shaking uncontrollably under the palm that rested across the sleeping witch's back. Rosmerta pulled her hand back quickly and moved around the bed. Pushing Hermione over, Rosmerta gasped upon seeing portions of Miss Granger's face purpled with mottling bruises in the shape of fingers. Someone had recently abused the poor young thing!

Garish red-painted nails reached out, lightly tracing the outline of one. The heat from Hermione's skin had Rosmerta gasping, the back of her hand quickly taking place on Hermione's forehead. She was burning hot, a fever raging violently through the girl.

The older witch cast an _Enervate_ on the war hero, desperate to know what had her in this state, but more importantly, to see that she got the help she needed. There was no way she would leave Miss Granger in this tumble-down room to wait out what felt to be a very high fever.

Hermione roused slowly, her eyes gradually coming into focus; a dim memory of checking into the Leaky after Arthur had stood her up for the weekend and not bothered to contact her rattled through her foggy brain.

"I waited for him…." she mumbled weakly, nearly incoherent with delirium. "I waited, and he never came, never owled, I waited for so long….Lucius… need to tell him…"

The girl strung together a series of sentences that made practically no sense to the distraught innkeeper. Who had she waited for? What had gotten her into this state? Was she running from someone? And what was this about Mr. Malfoy?

Hermione's eyes rolled back as she passed out once more.

"Oh Lord, this isn't good!"

Rosmerta froze; who in the world could she call to fetch the girl? A couple of shouts caught her attention. She could hear feet coming up the stairs at the end of the hall. "Coming!" she yelled, forced to gently lay the girl back on the soaked bedding for the time being.

She rushed into the hall, quickly closing and locking the door. The head of her resident drunk poked around the corner just as she reached the stairwell.

"Where ya been, lass? I be needin' me drink for ten minutes now!"

"Yeah yeah, I'm on it. Now go back to your seat."

She shooed the man down the stairs, anxiously casting a backwards glance over her shoulder. Rosmerta knew she'd have to find someone quickly to take care of the girl or she'd be forced to close, and she rarely closed due the traffic coming and going from Diagon Alley.

The dark brunette shoved a wild, stray lock from her face and hastily slopped a pitcher of ale in front of the drunk. "Here, on the house, luv," she barked. Quickly scanning the pub and noticing no new customers, she rushed around to the kitchens, completely missing the incredulous and grateful look on the ugly mug of her main patron. Rosmerta _never _gave him free drinks, but he wasn't about to turn this one down.

Once sequestered in the private, hidden Floo in the back broom closet that was kept tightly locked, Rosmerta threw in some Floo powder. "Kingsley Shacklebolt." He had been her main point of contact for the Order during the war, and the first person that came to mind when she needed to reach out for help or to pass on information.

The Floo hummed for a full minute, first engaging Kingsley's private home, then transferring to his office at the Ministry of Magic. Quite often he turned it off to dissuade the majority of people from contacting him during working hours, but on some days he left it open as a means of contact for those that had little time to search him out personally.

Rosmerta was extremely relieved when Kingsley's deep baritone boomed through the connection. "Deputy Minister Shacklebolt, Ministry of Magic, state your name and business, please."

"Kings, it's Rosie! I have something to tell you."

"Oh hello, Rosie, I'm afraid I don't have time for a social call right this moment, although I'd love to set something up for after work if you're free."

Rosmerta blushed furiously. There weren't many men that could make her color anymore, but she had had a thing for the well-built wizard for years. Many men thought she was easy and soon found out that despite her teasing and flirting manner, they never seemed to score with her. Rosmerta had loved once, and when her heart was broken she'd been saving herself ever since for the right one, terrified that he'd come along and wishing he's sweep her off her feet all at the same time. Her heart beat furiously in her chest whenever she was in contact with Kings.

"This isn't a social call. I have news concerning Hermione Granger."

That got his attention. Immediately his tone turned from playful to dead serious. "Did you say Hermione Granger? We haven't seen her for three days here at the Ministry. Do you know where she is?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. She checked in her a few days ago and told me she didn't want to be disturbed. I went up to do a well check on her and she's burning up with fever. I tried to _Enervate_ her but she was delirious and passed out again. I didn't know who else to contact. Can you please help?"

"I'll come right away. Clear the pub, if you would Rosie. Before you object, I'll reimburse you for the expense."

"I wasn't going to object. Please help her, she looks extremely ill, I'm frightened for her."

Kingsley was touched by the woman's big heart. She'd been instrumental behind the scenes during the war, passing on valuable information to the Order and striking a spark in the older man's toughened soul. He didn't have time for a witch in his life, or so he told himself, but as he got older he was more often than not lonely for female companionship. The pretty woman caught his eye whenever he was around her. The only thing holding him back from approaching her formally were the rumors he'd heard concerning the looseness of her moral proclivities. He didn't want a witch on his arm just about every other man in existence had been with. It was a shame, but there it was.

"Alright, everyone out," the witch announced, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. We're closing down for the afternoon for maintenance."

"What the 'ell? We just sat down 'ta eat, luv," a blond wizard smirked. "Also like to order some food, eh fellas?" he joked, earning some raucous laughter from his comrades.

"Sorry, we're closed." She shifted her step, planting both hands on the bar, showing him her statement brooked no room for argument from anyone.

"This joint never closes. What's up with this?" he grumbled good-naturedly, pulling on his robes.

"Tell you what. You fellas come back tomorrow and lunch is on the house but don't be bringing anymore of your friends with. If you try to take advantage you'll wish you'd never set foot in my pub."

The group laughed, slapping one another on the back and sending a few solicitous comments back to the barmaid.

After kicking out the complaining drunk and thanking the two businessmen for their patronage, she sighed and locked the pub, putting up the signs that she was closed. Rosmerta knew she wouldn't hear the end of this for weeks to come for folks that would have to travel halfway across Diagon Alley or Muggle London to find another entrance to the Wizarding or Muggle world.

Just as the locks clicked into place Kingsley Floo'ed through, the harried woman securing the Floo after he dusted off his robes.

Rosmerta noticed his gaze lingering on her breasts before meeting her face.

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs, second to last door on the left."

He followed her up the stairs and down the hall. The sight of Hermione lying prone on the bed, breathing shallowly, stunned him.

"What's happened to her?"

"I don't know. I found her like this. What are you going to do?"

"She needs a Healer, right away. I'm going to take her St. Mungo's and secure a private room. I have an idea as to what's going on but there is no telling what kind of danger she is in."

The large man lifted Hermione as if she weighed nothing, striding quickly from the room and taking the Floo to St. Mungo's private ward. As Minister's Deputy he had access to the private section of the hospital in an emergency. He considered this one of political import due to the players involved.

Rosmerta kept her place closed for another half hour or so before opening to keep up the pretense of maintenance. She hoped the young witch would be alright. It would be a shame if anything happened to her. She liked Hermione.

Kingsley pulled a tired hand over his face, this time grating against a two day beard. It had been hell keeping everyone off his back about Hermione. The idiot Minister had immediately let slip to his secretary, one of the main gossips of the Ministry, that Kingsley had Hermione Granger at St. Mungo's private ward. Damn the man! There was not one spare brain cell to rub together in the man's head whatsoever. If it wasn't for the Head Auror the man would've never seen office.

The Healer entered the room with a bevy of potions on a tray. "Has she come around?"

Kingsley shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to go home and get some rest yourself, Sir. You've not slept in two days."

"I can't leave her. It's a matter of-"

"National security, yes Sir, so you've reminded me and the other two Healers a multitude of times. I must insist you get some rest."

"Then transfigure me a damn cot, man! I'm not leaving her side!"

Healer Dartmouth moved to raise the head of the bed and administer her potions. The Minister's right hand man looked ready to throttle someone, rising to hover over the pale woman's limp body.

"Sir, I cannot do a thorough examination and give her medicine if you are blocking my way."

"Sorry," Kingsley muttered. "I'm very worried about her."

The Healer ran a quick diagnostic over her. "Her fever has gone down significantly, but she is not out of the woods yet. It was a good thing you brought her in when you did. Another few hours and she might have died from dehydration or gone into cardiac arrest from electrolyte imbalance."

Kingsley took a deep breath and shuddered slightly. Dammit, he wanted answers! His attempts to question Lucius had gone suspiciously sour. The snobbish Media relations for the Ministry had clammed up and stated Kingsley had no business inquiring into his state of affairs and refused to entertain him on any other non-work related business. Until Kings talked to Hermione, he was forced to concede to Lucius' demands to be left alone.

What were even more curious were Arthur's constant questions as to her health and when he could see her. Arthur seemed to be taking more than a passing personal interest in Miss Granger. Kingsley stroked his chin and thought back to the night almost a week prior when the other man had made him promise to let him keep just that one secret. Was he seeing Hermione in a less than professional capacity as he was beginning to suspect? And what did Lucius have to do with the whole thing?

Kingsley needed answers, and he needed them now. Another thought entered his head. There had been an article in the Rag 'n' Bull about Hermione Granger having some sort of liaison with Professor Snape awhile back; something about it happening at the Weasley function so many had attended. Arthur sure had taken off in a hurry after her now that he thought about it. When he'd gone looking for her and the crowd showed up, he'd been holding her hand. Arthur had also been about to say something but was interrupted by Snape.

The former Auror frowned. Something wasn't right about any of this. If he were correct in his assumption, there were a few snakes slithering about where they shouldn't be, and maybe a Gryffindor or two caught up in their tangled web. It wouldn't be the first time Kingsley had busted one of Lucius' little schemes.

He needed help. Deep in thought, Kingsley almost missed the Healer's smile when his wand glowed a bright blue over Hermione's abdomen.

"At least the baby is out of the woods," he stated calmly.

"Shit, did you just say baby?"

Healer Dartmouth frowned at Kingsley. "While I don't appreciate such language around my patients, I'll let it slide, Deputy. Yes, Miss Granger is with child. I'm assuming you weren't aware?"

"None of us were." Kingsley sat heavily. This complicated matters. Hermione was with child? Who was the father? Why wasn't the man stepping forward to help care for her? Well, maybe the man, or even Hermione herself, didn't know if her pregnancy were in the very early stages.

This new set of complications weighed heavily on the big man.

"Yes," the Healer continued, "she's having a boy. The fetus is approximately one to two weeks of age and has just begun to attach to the wall of the uterus. The baby seems healthy, we were afraid she was in danger of miscarrying for the first day or so, but he's pulled through nicely."

"A boy," Kingsley repeated, "she's having a boy, a son, good Gods."

He definitely needed to let someone in on this.

Kingsley stayed that night and the following day, with strict orders given to St. Mungo's staff to not allow anyone to see or speak of Miss Granger outside of her immediate caregivers. He had needed to rest and formulate a plan of action, one that involved trusted former Order members. He had also been in contact with Rosmerta to keep her eyes and ears open in case anything of import crossed her path. Of course she readily agreed, flushing prettily when he'd thanked her and gave her a wide, handsome grin.

God, it had been too long since he'd had a woman. He was almost tempted to push the witch against the wall of her pub in the kitchen and give her a taste of his ardor, releasing his lust inside of her, relieve some tension. He doubted she'd object, much.

Harry Potter was relieved to finally be allowed to see his best friend that Sunday. Hermione was sitting up in bed, chatting animatedly with Kingsley about theories on Unicorn magic when she squealed as he stepped into the room.

"Harry!"

"Hermione, thank god I've been so worried about you!"

The two hugged tightly, Hermione instantly sobbing into his work robes. He pulled away with a soppy grin and held onto her hands. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, you big prat," she countered, but her smile belay the bite of her words.

"God, 'Mione, what happened to you?"

"Like I told Kingsley, I went out for a walk in the rain and I guess I forgot to cast a rain repelling charm. I was feeling kind of down and was waiting for a friend but the person never showed up. Guess I had caught something already because next thing I knew I was waking up here and getting a good scolding from Kingsley."

She cast a sheepish look at her friend and sometimes mentors.

Kingsley looked back at her seriously; his mouth was in a thick line. "She still won't tell me what she was doing at Rosmerta's, renting a room for the week. All of her things have been removed from her flat. Maybe you can get her to talk?" He was addressing Harry, but still looking pointedly at the young witch that had defied his efforts at questioning.

"Hermione?" A puzzled boy-who-lived sat on the edge of her hospital bed, rubbing her palms with his thumbs. "You can tell me what's going on, can't you? I stopped by your flat once early last week and there was a strange House elf standing outside your door. He had a couple of boxes in his hands. When I asked him what he was doing there he said it was none of my business and disappeared."

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "I hired him and a few others to move my possessions to my new place."

"You moved without telling anyone. Hermione, why would you do that?"

Her hands withdrew and she pulled the covers up to her chest, shivering slightly. "I can't tell you that."

Kingsley rose and stepped back. "Hermione, you can't leave us all in the dark forever. I understand your reluctance to tell me, but Harry's been your best friend since your first year at Hogwarts. There is also something else you need to tell him, or I will." He shared a meaningful stare with her before quitting the room.

"Hermione?"

A tear slipped down her face and she turned her head from him, speaking so softly Harry almost didn't catch the simple phrase that fell listlessly from her pale lips.

"I'm pregnant."


	14. Chapter 14 A Woman Defended

A Woman Defended

Kingsley Shacklebolt was in a rage. Many had seen him angry; rarely had they seen him ready to throttle the living daylights out of anyone that got in his way as he appeared to look that morning. Like a bull in a china shop, the large, black Deputy Minister thundered down the hall to the office of Lucius Malfoy, the Daily Prophet practically squashed in his powerful left hand. He was about to fling open the door when he heard the unmistakable sounds of raised voices, and two he knew very well, but rarely raised as they were, and never at one another.

"Goddamnit Lucius, she's only a girl!"

"Yes, one who is of age and of perfectly sound mind to make her own decisions as to whom she shares physical relations!"

Kingsley's fist tightened around the paper, his eyebrows rising in surprise, ear flush against the door.

"You mean a girl of age to be taken advantage of, don't you?" countered Arthur's gruff accusation.

Lucius' voice lowered so Kingsley almost wasn't able to hear it, but a nifty little amplification charm did a nice job wrangling it into clarity.

"Come now, Mr. Weasley, surely we can settle this like gentlemen? Say, ten thousand galleons?"

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it Malfoy. Money is as much your Mistress as any one of the women you've ever used and discarded like so much rubbish."

"How dare you make such dastardly assumptions!" Lucius practically shrieked. "My personal life is none of your concern!"

"It becomes my concern when you are fucking one of my employees and have them sent to hospital!"

"As I said before, Mr. Weasley, I've no idea what you're on about. I've no more sent your precious Granger to hospital then I have my own flesh and blood."

"She disappeared right after Hermione disclosed to me the nature of her so-called physical relations with you, one-sided as that seemed to be from my point of view. Kingsley won't tell me a damn thing, and you insist on blowing smoke up my backside at every turn."

"I still fail to see how you have come to the conclusion that I preserve any more information than you at the present time."

The sound of papers being flung and a curse rang out.

"The Prophet speaks loud and clear today, doesn't it, editor Malfoy?"

"Rubbish! I've nothing to do with what's in print."

"Yet, you don't deny the contents."

"How can I deny what I do or do not know to be truth?"

"Then why allow it to be printed?"

"Surely, you don't believe that I've anything to do with the content as your continued presumption assails?"

"Would you, for once in your life, just give me a goddamn straight answer and tell me why you are doing this to her?"

Kingsley had heard enough. He drew in a deep breath and let it out as he flung the door open to Lucius' office without ceremony.

The heated gesticulating and raised voices came to a cold halt when a red-faced Malfoy and beet colored Arthur Weasley turned in unison to meet the equally murderous face of Shacklebolt.

Arthur visibly swallowed, taking a step back and pointing a finger at Malfoy.

"This son-of-a-bitch caused this! You know he's got his filthy fingers in everyone's pocket down at the Prophet!"

"You listen to me you Muggle-loving piece of shit!" Lucius raged in retaliation.

Kingsley's bulk towered over the two tall men, Lucius broad shouldered and lithe, Arthur tall and stocky with some middle age bulk, but Kingsley built like a brick shithouse. It was a toss-up who would win in a duel between the three men, but in a brawl, Kingsley would kick both of their asses' hands-down.

"Gentlemen." The deep voice boomed throughout the ostentatious office, seeming to rattle the glass of the windows. Arthur was sure the floor under his feet vibrated in fear just a bit, as well.

The instant Kingsley spoke one hundred percent of arguing was suspended like so many flies in a web.

The Deputy brandished the Prophet before him as he would a weapon. "So help me, Lucius Malfoy, if I find that you are responsible for this slanderous trash defiling Miss Granger I'll not only have your job but see you on House arrest pending a full investigation.

Lucius shot him a beautiful sneer that would have put Severus to shame. "With all due respect, _Deputy Minister_," he spat as if the title offended him, soiling his tongue as an epithet, "to think I would engage in petty hyperbole surrounding a Ministry employee I've sworn to uphold during a time of great distress is purely nonsensical. Surely you realize how ludicrous such an accusation sounds considering my already precarious position?"

Kingsley could tell Arthur was bursting to speak. With an impatient wave of a hand he indicated for the other man to have his say.

With an accusatory look at a sniffing Malfoy, who was currently inspecting his nails as if he hadn't a care in the world (in front of Kingsley, at least,) he stated, "I've entrusted Mr. Malfoy with sensitive information that could only have come from either I or him. There is no way I would ever betray such a confidence as I've had toward Miss Granger, protecting her as I would a daughter from her first year on. You see before you a traitorous, lying scum!"

Kingsley was shocked at the vehemence behind Arthur's words. The man was normally fun-loving and mild mannered. To see him so apoplectic and passionate about his accusations certainly warranted a look into the depth of truth behind them. Arthur Weasley had never reason to lie before; Kingsley had no reason to suspect he would do so now.

With a stern gaze at both men, Kingsley came to a decision.

"Neither of you will speak further of this today. If anyone approaches you concerning the matter direct them to me; my office, four o'clock that will be all, gentlemen. Arthur, please return to your duties."

With a slight bow and a scathing look back at Malfoy, the elder Weasley turned on a firm heel and left the office.

Lucius smirked after the man's retreating back.

The blond aristocrat's haughty, smug manner grated on Kingsley's nerves. Rotten; that was what he felt in his very bones the man before him had festering inside, something terrible and rotten.

"Malfoy."

The icy-grey eyes settled on Kingsley's deep brown ones.

"Shacklebolt."

Very few men could get away with calling Kingsley by his last name alone, and Malfoy was not one of them.

"With all due courtesy, which you do not afford me, _Sir,"_ Kingsley mimicked Malfoy's countenance, "you are hereby suspended from duty without pay until further notice pending a formal investigation, despite what I just said in front of Mr. Weasley. That was only to save your ungrateful public face. I advise counsel for you, Mr. Malfoy. The Minister does not take lightly to such public slander of Ministry business and unfounded accusations."

"Unfounded, bah! As if I care what a Weasley, the Minister or anyone else thinks of me! I may own the majority of shares in the Prophet, but contrary to popular opinion I do not sift through everything that is printed, so do not throw the ingredients out with the cauldron," Lucius spat, whirling and gripping the edge of his expensive desk. "It's not I that will be sacked at the tail end of your investigation, Deputy Minister. On the contrary, your precious Granger is every bit the whore the story depicts."

Kingsley shook with rage and barely restrained disgust. "I trust you have personal knowledge of these so-called escapades to warrant proof of such accusations?"

Lucius turned sharply and gave Kingsley a cold, crocodile-like smile. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Of all the times Arthur had been to Hogwarts, he'd never felt as fiercely protective, apprehensive and disgusted as he did right at that moment. Within those four walls was a man who had begun the downhill spiral that was poisoning the second love of his life. If it was the last thing he ever did, this was going to stop tonight. Neither Lucius Malfoy nor Severus Snape would ever lay a hand on Hermione ever again, even if he had to kill them both, or die trying. Kingsley might refuse to let him see her, but neither would the other two reap the opportunity, either.

Determined strides took him quickly, after a brief chat with Hagrid and then a questioning Minerva as to the nature of his visit, down to the dungeons and in front of Severus Snape's office.

"Enter," bade the silken tones of Professor Snape, even before his knuckles had risen to rap on the aged wooden door.

Arthur entered; one raised brow the only indication Snape was mildly surprised to see him.

"By all means, _make yourself comfortable_, Mr. Weasley," he sneered, his usual countenance cold and critical, as always.

"I'd rather skip the pleasantries if that's alright with you, Severus," the redhead deadpanned.

Snape gently, calculatingly, precisely laid his quill on a badly-marked parchment, removed his reading glasses and rose to his full height.

"I'm a very busy man. What is it that you want?"

Thank God Severus didn't beat around the bush, unlike Malfoy, who'd nearly driven him 'round the bend with his mind games and turning questions around to suit his own ends.

"I want you to leave off Hermione."

Severus didn't seem to be at all shocked by this turn of events, but it was hard to discern what lay beneath the exterior of a man who'd been subjected to Voldemort's scrutiny for the better part of two decades.

"She's come to me willingly."

"She's come to you to discuss business, and you took advantage!"

"Ah, but do you know the nature of her private business? But you must, seeing as you are here. Then you know more than I, for she came unannounced and said nothing to me of the matter."

Snape swished around to the front of his desk, toe-to-toe with the man who'd interrupted his grading.

"So the question remains, what business is it of yours with whom Miss Granger liaises, hmmm?"

"She is my employee, and like a daughter to me. You know how much time she's spent with our family."

"Ah yes, your precious family," Snape sneered magnificently, his glittering black eyes almost seeming to read into Arthur's very soul. "The precious, prodigal son who abandoned Miss Granger to her own devices, and being the jilted lover, she's turned to the arms of her former Professor. You've failed to convince me of her insincerity."

Arthur tried another tack. "She was your student, have you no shame?"

Like a cat who'd gotten the cream Snape moved in for the kill, "She's like a daughter to you, have you none of your own?"

A stalemate; each man knew of the other's involvement with the young woman of topic. Pale eyes like the sky after a storm met glittering black onyx. The men stared one another down, neither perturbed or giving an inch.

At long last, Arthur sighed in defeat. If Severus wanted to break him down publicly there was nothing he could do about it. It was a foregone conclusion that all of their lives would change irrevocably once their relationship became public.

"Just- leave her alone. After what appeared today in the Prophet I can't imagine she's going to be in the best state of mind as it is."

"Miss Granger has always been in the limelight. It's never shaken her confidence before, I cannot fathom the girl's endless reserve of gumption would run out prematurely because of Rita Skeeter's blathering, licentious, and clearly fraudulent article."

"Hermione is more vulnerable than you think. She's in hospital, Severus, she's ill."

The sneer melted from the Potion master's face, replaced by what could searchingly be called concern.

Feigning disinterest and failing miserably, Snape wandered to his office fireplace and warmed his hands before it. "What's happened to Minerva's precious Lion cub? Get herself in a spot of trouble with Potter again, has she?" The words held what were meant to be sarcasm, without any real heat.

"I have reason to believe Lucius has hurt her. Kingsley's keeping her condition close to the vest, won't let anyone in to see her. He says it's a matter of Ministry security."

Severus was silent. Arthur was curious to wait him out, almost able to hear the wheels turning in the Slytherins head.

"I've no wish to see her harmed."

Snape spoke softly, almost to himself, but just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

"When you receive word you've only to owl for whatever she may need."

"Your word to leave her be?"

Snape turned, his robes billowing in their trademark manner as he did so. Severus had no idea why he suddenly cared so for the young woman. He'd no real incentive to go out of his way for her, and especially for any of the Weasley's. However… the mention of Lucius' involvement struck an odd chord within him. His former best mate had grown distant while feigning friendship since the end of the war, often becoming obsessed with trivial or random topics, events long since passed and clinging to the old Pureblood views as if they were his salvation. It grated on his nerves and Severus longed to be free from the vestiges of a past that only kept a tenuous hold as long as he allowed Malfoy to remain in his life.

Change was in the air. Severus could feel it in his blood. His spy senses were tingling. A cold, heartless bastard he was, but a good mystery and self-preservation took precedence above all else. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but now that he thought back to some of his recent conversation's with his 'old friend', and the subsequent visit from Arthur, certain comments and events weren't adding up. What game was Lucius playing at this time? Why involve the girl? Irrelevant as it seemed, Weasley seemed to care for the girl in more than a passing manner. Severus had had his heart rendered cold, lifeless by a witch once-upon-a-time. A sliver of that brokenness still held true that not all romance need die in the world as it had in his own.

The long silence was broken by his affirmation to Arthur. "You have my word."

"Just where have you been?"

Arthur really, really, really didn't need this at this point in time. He'd had a long day with his confrontations over Hermione, the meeting with Shacklebolt that had yielded no real answers as far as he was concerned, mostly addressing their public stance toward the slander in the paper and their approach to dealing with it, and the stress of re-distributing Hermione's workload until he could hire a substitute or have her back on staff.

He didn't answer Molly, simply shrugging out of his robes and wandering into the kitchen for something leftover to eat. His respite didn't last.

"I asked you a question, Arthur Weasley, just where have you been? I've been waiting for you to come home. We were supposed to meet Ginny and Harry for a late tea but of course, you never showed, without so much as a by-your-leave or any other such courtesy. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Arthur was tired of it, he really was. He was tired of the constant nagging, crying, inability to be effectual in his own home, spurned by his superiors for knowledge of his beloved (not that they knew that was what ailed his worried mind), and all of the lying and sneaking around. A wizard could only take so much and he'd reached his breaking point.

Arthur threw the hunk of cheese back onto the counter beside the bread and turned.

"Molly, do you really want to know what I've got to say for myself?"

Molly folded her arms, expecting him to capitulate in some manner. She was rudely surprised by his answer.

"I'm leaving. Tonight. I want a divorce."

And with that, he breathed a great sigh of relief, brushing past his stunned wife and up the stairs to pack. It took him all of five minutes to shrink and store what he need. Without further ado he was out the door and off to the Leaky to rent a room until he could find a more permanent place to stay, and this time, hopefully with his love.

Arthur was done hiding from the world, damn them all for all he cared. He just hoped Hermione was on board as well.


End file.
